


In Hopes of a Garden

by dracox_serdriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Collars, Confession, Consort Dean Winchester, Dark Castiel, Depressed Castiel, Depressed Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant/Top Castiel, Dreamsharing, Drunk Dean, Dubious Consent, Episode: s06e22 The Man Who Knew Too Much, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy Fulfillment, Gags, Godstiel: Cas as God, Heaven, Hell, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Imprisonment, M/M, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Violence, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Protective Castiel, Purgatory, Rape/Non-con Elements, Redemption, Sexsomnia, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Slavery, Time warp, enslavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Warning</b>: This fiction contains adult themes and dark overtones. Please see the tags for an overview of content, and please do <em>not</em> read if any of the tags cause alarm.</p><p><b>Summary</b>: After Castiel takes in all the souls in Purgatory, he destroys Raphael and is left an all-powerful being. That is how the story begins. And this - this is how the story ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quickly Dissolves Away

Castiel stood, aglow with a new burden of power, as Sam Winchester pushed an angel blade through his back. Cas knew Sam's intentions before the blade pierced his torso, but there was no need to stop him. In fact, it would prove a valuable point. 

"I'm glad you made it, Sam," Cas said casually as he dispensed with the blade. "But the angel blade won't work because I'm not an angel anymore. I am your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you."

Bobby Singer stood slack-jawed at the announcement while Dean's emerald eyes flashed in surprise. Confusion stampeded through Sam's mind like wild horses; Castiel didn't see fit to lash out at a boy with no tether to reality. 

Their fear was a fog such that none of them could _see_ Castiel, so he waited. Perhaps all they needed was time.

 

Dean Winchester was terrified, but that wasn't really the point. Not here, not now.

So, in a move that would be interpreted by Bobby as abject stupidity, Dean stepped forward and touched Castiel: first his face, then his hands. The angel, or super-angel-deity, or whatever the hell Cas was now – was cool to the touch.

Castiel's eyes flicked dangerously over Dean. 

"He said you'd explode," Dean gave as an explanation.

"Who?"

"Balthazar. That's why he – he was afraid you'd melt," Dean said quickly, fumbling for words. 

Balthazar had used words like 'nuclear reaction' or 'meltdown' or something to that effect, but Dean couldn't recollect the precise phrasing. For some reason, as Cas stared him down, exactness _did_ matter.

"You're being truthful," Cas said slowly. 

Dean's face scrunched up; the idea of lying to Castiel right now was utterly ridiculous.

Castiel waved his hand, and Sam's eyes cleared, like water purged through a filter. 

"I have other things to attend to," Cas said before he vanished.

Sam spoke up, "What the hell am I doing here?"

"You don't know?" Bobby asked. "You came here to help us."

"No, that's – " Sam's face screwed up in confusion. "The last thing I remember is Cas telling Dean he'd save me... if..." Sam took his face in his hands, trying to focus. "Damn it, I can't remember!"

"You don't remember what he did after that?" Dean asked.

"No," Sam said. "What?"

Bobby and Dean stared, speechless. 

"What?" Sam repeated.

 

Castiel returned to the Garden of Heaven for the first time in almost a year. 

"Raphael is dead," he announced. "There is no more war."

Raphael's right hand, Gideon, appeared immediately, his angel blade readied for battle.

"Raphael's dead? By your hands? Unacceptable!" he roared.

Gideon thrust the blade into Castiel, who made no attempt to stop him or to parry the weapon. Unceremoniously, Cas yanked it from his body and tossed it aside. 

Fury boiled up in Castiel, but something tempered him. Gideon adored Raphael and followed his cause for the sake of that love. It was not so unlike Cas's devotion to Dean's cause. In this way, he saw himself in Gideon.

"The only way to stop Raphael was to kill him, and for that I am sorry," Castiel said patiently. "But your death will not make Heaven a better place, Gideon. Your devotion, your love are invaluable."

"What are you?" Gideon asked in shock.

In those first moments that he embraced his power, Castiel had been taken by it, consumed by his own hubris. Yet at this instant, beside his heart-broken brother, all he could think to say was -

"I am powerful. You cannot kill me. And I know your death will bring nothing but suffering," Cas replied.

By now, the entire Heavenly Host was watching. The former angel had felt each one arrive, until all the angels of creation surrounding the Garden in rapt attention.

Cas turned to address the other angels. "We have fought for so long, it is hard to accept that there is no longer a need. But we've lost enough. Too much."

"What about bringing Paradise to Earth?" Gideon asked. "What about Destiny and Fate?"

"If I gave you all the answers, Gideon, you would be dissatisfied."

"What do I do now?" Gideon asked. 

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know what 'want' is," Gideon replied. "I've never wanted anything before."

Cas put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You will. You will find your place. The process will be confusing and frustrating, but you will find it. And when you do, neither Fate nor Destiny will deter you from your work."

Gideon didn't hesitate to ask, "What if I want to kill you?" 

Castiel smiled. "I understand what it is to be ruled by emotions. But killing me is finite. Once it is complete, what will you want then?"

The confusion on Gideon's face won him a reprieve, and the rest of the Heavenly Host kept their distance. Free will confused most angels, but the ideas of 'want' and 'finite' were widely understood. Questions bubbled here and there, but none of the angels dared approach Castiel to ask. 

Sensing their fear, Castiel announced, "For the next earthly week, in memorandum of Raphael, no angel shall harm another. This peace will be a small fraction of the Paradise that was once Raphael's great goal."

Gideon bowed and disappeared. 

Some of the bolder angels finally came into the Garden with Castiel. Hannah, another who adored Raphael, inquired after the same thing as Gideon, and soon even his own soldiers asked him what would come next. Perhaps the angels understood the words, but putting that understanding into action would take time and patience. 

And Castiel didn't have much of the latter. 

Hester, the most daring of his own soldiers, finally asked him, "You would have your soldiers mourn Raphael? When he led the forces against us for so long?"

"Raphael was our brother," Cas replied, "and now that he is dead, there is no reason to fear him. And if there is no fear, then only love abides."

"And we mourn the ones we love," Hester acknowledged. 

To sooth his nerves, Cas lied to himself, claiming their acceptance was an act of obedience, but he was aware of the truth. After years of fighting Hell and one another, the angels _wanted_ peace. Without archangels declaring angel 'sides,' the remaining reasons for warfare were the angel equivalent of sibling squabbles, but even those were lulled for now.

His siblings were quarrelsome and lost, even annoyingly confused. With his patience thin, Castiel needed to avoid the other angels, so he left Heaven. 

Thus, Castiel spent the first day with his new power quelling the storms in Heaven.

 

There was, of course, the matter of the souls that he had consumed. 

Souls were not simply raw power. Each one had its own encapsulated personality, an individual that had once been alive. He found that the more placid of the monsters, such as the phoenixes, had a great deal of philosophy under their belts. It was a phoenix, in fact, that gave him that knowledge on fear and love. 

So, on the second day, Castiel created a world within himself for the souls that inhabited Purgatory. The process was simple enough, since Cas knew how the souls in Heaven generated little paradises. He didn't weave so complex a plane inside of himself, but he accorded each soul a placement. Some preyed upon one another forever; others flocked together in relative peace. A few preferred solitary hiding places. To each its own.

 

On the third day, he reflected about the problems in Heaven. 

Cas's ability to handle his siblings would soon evaporate, which would drive the former angel to obliterate most of them. He needed a voice of reason to hold him back.

Or, perhaps, he needed a voice of un-reason. A voice of freedom. He couldn't decide which. 

With a snap of his fingers, Anna and Balthazar appeared.

"Cas?" Balthazar said, rubbing his hands over the fatal wound that was no longer there.

"You are alive," Cas said. "Again."

"You killed me!" Balthazar protested.

"I thought you had betrayed me. You could have corrected me at the time."

"How could I correct you if I was dead?" 

"I've brought you back for a reason," Cas said. He acknowledged Anna, "Both of you."

"You? Brought me back?" Anna asked.

"Yes. The apocalypse was averted. Raphael tried to recreate it, and now he is dead," he explained to Anna. 

"Then why did you bring me back?" she asked.

"Unbelievable," Balthazar remarked.

"Because you understand humanity better than any other angel. So does he," Cas explained. "And since the apocalypse is over, you present no danger to the Winchesters."

"So, wait," Balthazar said, "you think you can just bring us back to life and we'll just, what? Do whatever you say? After you killed us?"

"Actually, Michael killed me," Anna said.

"No, I expect that you will help the other angels," Cas said, "because it is in your nature."

Balthazar laughed hysterically at that. "You think – " but he couldn't continue; he was laughing too hard.

"I don't understand," Anna said. "What is it you expect from me?"

"Most angels do not understand free will, and now that the allure of Destiny and the guillotine of Fate are both gone, they need guidance."

"Why don't you give it to them, then, Cas?" Balthazar asked, his voice haughty and taut. "Then, if they don't agree right away, or are afraid you'll explode, you can always just stab them!"

"That is what I'm afraid of," Cas replied with enough anger to shake the Earth.

"Whoa," Anna commented. 

"Killing our brethren will not make things better. I logically know this, but after my initial contact in Heaven I found them...grating. I would prefer not to decimate the rest of our siblings."

"Your anger is tied to the souls inside you," Anna said. "You know you can't stand that for long, don't you? Souls are sequestered in Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory for a reason."

"Don't concern yourself with me – "

"Good advice, as it stands," Balthazar added. 

Cas ignored him. "I will not return to Heaven, but only ask that you do so."

"Why are we doing this?" Balthazar asked.

"To ensure the fighting has died down. Perhaps to help your fellow angels find a new path and meaning. That is not my concern. It's yours now."

And with that, Castiel disappeared, leaving Anna perplexed and Balthazar flabbergasted.

 

The guilt he felt over originally killing Balthazar prevented him from killing him again, but even that had its limits. 

Castiel was furious, and he had one excellent way of dealing with such things: hunting. He started wiping out Eve's soldiers, focusing first on the packs of skinwalkers and werewolves that remained ready to turn hundreds of people overnight. Eve might be dead, but her children's teeth were as sharp as ever.

Thus, on the fourth day, Castiel obliterated Eve's emergent army. Webs of arachne, nests of vampires, and families of shifters disappeared. Those that survived scattered to empty hovels and caverns in the ground to hide.

 

On the fifth day, Cas visited Crowley. The King of Hell hid himself in a shelter designed to ward off angels, so he jolted violently when his old business partner appeared.

"My apologies for the delay," Cas said. "But it took more effort than I thought it would."

"Finding me?" Crowley asked.

"No, I knew where you were the whole time," Cas dismissed. "I mean it took me longer to figure out how to use the Ethereal Enclosure."

Cas produced what looked to be an ordinary mason jar full of iridescent fluid. 

"What's this?" Crowley asked, considering all forms of torture.

"Your share," Cas replied, as if it was an obvious answer.

"You – you said – you renegotiated our terms! You screwed me over! You told me to flee or die!" Crowley replied.

"I know you," the former angel replied placidly. "Tell me. If I asked you to go to Raphael and claim that I double-crossed you, would you have done it?"

"No, of course not! That'd be suicide!"

"Precisely. You had to believe that I really was betraying you. You needed desperation to push you to a last resort. Otherwise you wouldn't dare approach an archangel."

Crowley looked at Castiel with new eyes, almost unbelieving. "You're telling me you _planned_ all that?"

"Actually, Balthazar came up with the idea. We needed Raphael to be close to the warehouse, and he'd never believe any of my soldiers would return to his fold. It needed to be you."

"You cunning little bastard," Crowley whispered. "What is this jar?"

"It's not quite half the souls, I'm afraid," Cas replied. "I thought you would prefer the wicked and depraved, which oddly only made up about a third of the souls. Unfortunately this jar is incapable of holding anymore power than that, so it'll have to be enough."

"So, you're going to just _let_ me have this power? Why?" Crowley asked. 

"As much as I distain demons, we had a deal. And free will relies entirely on choice. Choice does not exist without divergence. For Heaven to exist there must be some kind of Hell."

"Poetic, and not entirely yours, I take it," Crowley said. "Does this good will of yours extend to letting me live?"

"I have left Heaven. I don't intend to return or to lead the forces there."

"Meaning?" 

"Meaning I cannot promise you that the angels will not kill demons, or that they won't kill you should they meet you."

"Ah, there's the rub."

"But as for myself, I have no intention of harming you," Cas replied. "So long as you make no attempt on me or mine."

"And, I take it, 'mine' includes the Winchesters?" 

"As well as their family, friends, and so on."

Crowley bit his lip. Avoiding the Winchesters would be difficult, but doable with a power boost.

"Why are you really doing this, Cas? It's not just because we made some deal. That doesn't mean the same thing to you as it does to me."

"You have proven that you have no interest in the apocalypse, of bringing either permanent Paradise or permanent Hell on Earth. I have reason to invest in the survival of your position."

With that, Cas tossed the jar at Crowley, who deftly caught it. When the King of Hell looked up, the former angel had already disappeared.

 

On the sixth day, Castiel dedicated himself to healing the wounded souls of several humans on the edge of monstrosity. He had moderate success with several warlords and major drug dealers across the world. Some of them turned themselves in; others rededicated their lives to some acts of charity. 

None would survive long in their new roles without guidance, however, so he called for one of his siblings, Hannah.

"You once watched over the sick and the weak," Cas said. 

"I did."

"Until you became a soldier. I believe this might be an opportunity for you to do both."

Hannah was confused about the entire situation, but Cas focused on the big picture: an angel to watch after the humans he just converted to light. 

"What if I fail?"

"There is no failure," Cas replied. "Only learning. And I am sure if you request help from Heaven, you will receive it."

Hannah dutifully accepted, and in the course of one day, Samandriel and Inias joined her mission.

 

On the seventh day, Castiel watched over the Winchesters. They had returned to Singer's Lot and remained there, holding out for the worst. Because they still expected the worst from Cas.

Yet, he stood by as the three of them woke up, ate, and washed. He watched as Sam cooked and cleaned, Bobby restored old books, and Dean surfed the internet for cases. He continued his observations into the night, as they ate and retired to bed.

It made him feel lonely. It made him ache. Yet he watched for the whole day anyway.

 

On the eight day, Castiel returned to his work eliminating the monsters of the world.

It so happened that, as he killed off a regrouped nest of arachnes, he experienced a sort of call: distress and terror and pain. 

Dean Winchester was in trouble. 

Instantly, Castiel appeared at his side and analyzed the situation. For some reason, the Winchesters had attacked but failed to kill Cronus, and his response was volatile and violent. Both Sam and Dean sustained broken bones and deep gashes.

Cas grabbed the pagan deity by the top of his head and thrust him to his knees. 

"Why is the Greek deity of time attempting to kill you?" Cas asked casually, solely to confirm that they didn't need him alive.

Neither Winchester wasted much time on surprise or shock. 

Sam replied, "He's been mummifying people. We tried to stop him – "

Fire erupted as Cas eliminated Cronus forever. The frustration released by his passing was almost enough to cover the fact that Dean didn't speak a word to him in greeting or thanks.

Without even laying hands on them, he healed the Winchesters and disappeared.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, looking at the charred remains on the ground.

"Guess he's... back?" Sam said tentatively. 

Dean shook his head. "Did you see his eyes when he killed Cronus? He enjoyed it."

"So? You enjoy it when you gank something."

"But Cas doesn't. Not like that."

Sam asked, "You ever think, maybe, you're looking for a reason to discount him?"

"What?"

"He fixed my head, Dean. And just saved our asses."

"Just, leave it Sam."

 

Demolishing monster hordes and deities alike made one thing very clear: do not go near Dean Winchester.

The distinction was made between Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester on the ninth day, when the latter was cleaning out a nest of vampires. One managed to drop the hunter, nearly bleeding him out, but Cas intervened and incinerated all but one of the ill-fated vamps. 

To the surviving monster, he said, "Spread the word: anyone who harms Dean Winchester will meet a bloody fate. And if you fail to be proficient in this message, I will dispose of you and find another."

In a matter of weeks, Dean found that hunting was no longer an occupation for him. If he showed his face in a town with a case, all monsters and demons fled from the immediate area. The only cases Dean got to work were angry spirits and ghosts.

 

It had been slightly over a month since Castiel had dropped off the radar. Dean had expected the worse – massacres, tidal waves, a new level of angelic warfare – but it hadn't happened. All in all, nothing had changed.

Except for monsters and demons now absconding from any apparent Winchester appearance. That was new. And, if Dean was being honest, quite annoying.

He had realized that the worst was not coming and that led him to a new kind of misery. He had been so certain that cracking open Purgatory would end badly that he had gone against Cas, fought him. 

Fuck, Sam had _stabbed_ him.

Dean still hated the idea of Cas swallowing souls. That couldn't be good for his health; after all, you are what you eat. Eating monster souls would make you a monster, at least as far as Dean was concerned.

But he felt guilty, like he betrayed a good friend who was already down on his luck; in fact, he was certain that was how Castiel saw this whole mess. And he missed the angel – former angel, whatever – a lot more than he'd like to admit.

And now he couldn't even distract himself with a damn case, so he settled for spending too much time working on the Impala. He even started working on other cars in Singer's Lot, because, why the hell not? It gave him something to do.

Meanwhile, Sam took the entire scenario with a Zen-like stride. Or attitude. Whatever. Sam only joined Dean on cases to humor him and that pissed the elder Winchester off to no end. After a month-long lull, Sammy was ready to just settle down and bake for the rest of his life. Apparently ex-blood junkies domesticated nicely.

Bobby didn't seem to mind Dean working on the junkers or Sam taking over the kitchen. In fact, he seemed downright happy. Sheriff Mills came over for diner on Wednesday and Thursday nights, and they went out for date nights over the weekend.

Weekends and _date nights_.

Everything was so normal, and Dean wanted to enjoy it. He had found happiness, even if only for a little while, with Lisa and Ben in their normal life. But even then, he was an invader; he didn't belong. It was just a matter of time before he was yanked out to be a hunter again. What the hell was he going to do if he _couldn't_ be a hunter anymore?

Dean forced himself to smile, to thank Sam for cooking diner, and to refurbish cars. Maybe if he pretended to be happy, he eventually would be.


	2. Long Summer's Day

"Dean," Sam said, coming out into the yard with some papers. "You got a minute?"

"Sure," Dean replied, worried that this would be the day that someone told him Castiel had gone on a killing spree.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, handing off the papers.

They were all related to a house about a mile down the road from Bobby's Lot.

"Haunting?" Dean asked hopefully.

"No, no," Sam said. "Look, we can't live with Bobby forever. Maybe it's time we get a place."

"Sounds a little gay, not judging," Dean said jokingly. 

"Dean, I'm serious. The house needs some work, but it's close by, and not too expensive."

"So, we get a dog and settle down like Bert and Ernie?"

"No, you idiot," Sam said. "We get a place to live. A home. It's not gonna be forever. Sooner or later one of us will move out, get married – "

"Woah!" Dean interrupted. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Why? No more apocalypse. No more hunting, at least not for us. I say it's time for the Hunter Retirement Plan to kick in."

"Sammy, there _isn't_ a hunter retirement plan. Except death by being torn into pieces. Or eaten."

"That's messed up and not true," Sam replied. "Not anymore."

"For how long?" Dean asked. "It's just a matter of time – "

"Before what?" Sam asked. "Before the Apocalypse starts up again? Cas didn't want that, and he's in charge now."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Dean snapped.

"Look, he might've – broken my head for a day or so, but he fixed it. And he stopped Raphael, and – things are _better_ , Dean. Can't you see that?"

"I see it, but I don't believe it," Dean replied. 

"Well of course you don't," a snarky voice replied. "Why on Earth would you?"

Sam and Dean both turned to see Balthazar casually standing in the middle of the yard. 

"This is what you're doing now? That's – uh, strange, gotta say," Balthazar continued. "You look horrible," he directed at Dean. To Sam, he said, "You're fine."

"Thanks, I guess," Sam replied. "What do you want?"

"Me? Well, I want to smite you for _letting_ Cas take in all those – things," Balthazar replied. "But I'm fairly certain if I tried, he would just kill me again."

"Cas killed you?" Dean asked.

"Before he completed that bloody ritual," the angel huffed. "Anyway he brought me back and I thought I'd pay you two a visit."

Neither Winchester had anything to say to that.

"You don't have a plan, do you?" the angel asked.

"Plan? For what?" Dean asked.

"For getting Castiel back," Balthazar replied, exaggerating every word.

Sam and Dean exchanged confused looks. 

"Getting him back from where?" Sam asked idly. "He's around. We've even seen him a few times."

"Oh, yes, that's true," Balthazar mused. "But he's going around killing demons and monsters to keep his temper in check so he doesn't wipe out every angel in creation."

"Question," Dean prompted. "Why would he do that?"

"Well, mostly because they're idiots and annoying," Balthazar replied. "And don't know how to function without orders. Cas told them to stop killing each other and find their own purpose, and I don't think a single one has any idea how to do that."

"Why would that make Cas kill them?" Sam asked.

"Because he's powerful and the angels want orders from someone in charge, with power, you idiot," Balthazar said, as if he spoke to toddlers. "It's all Anna can do to prevent them from following him around like – "

"Anna?" Dean chimed in. "Michael blasted her apart."

"Cas decided she could help the angels figure free will out, so he resurrected her."

"Just like that?" Dean asked.

"You are missing the point," Balthazar snapped. "Cas isn't Cas anymore. He smites the crap out of everything so he can maintain a spot of patience, and sooner or later, there won't be anything left to distract him! So we need to get the old Castiel back and soon. So what is your plan?"

"We don't have one," Sam conceded. 

"Fantastic," Balthazar said before he disappeared.

"See what I mean, Sammy?" Dean asked. "He's gonna lose what little grip he has left and nuke Heaven!"

"You don't know that."

"Were you just in the same conversation I was?"

"And who is our big resource on this? Balthazar?" Sam said. "You barely trusted him a few months ago, now you take his word for it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. His brother could be such a naive fool sometimes, and he didn't what he could say to enlighten him.

"You know what," Sam said when his brother didn't reply. "Why don't we talk about what's really bothering you?"

"We just did."

"Drop the attitude, Dean. I see right through it."

"Shut up, Dr. Phil!"

"You miss Cas," Sam continued. "That's why you're all doom and gloom, because you want him to come back."

Dean ignored Sam and went back to work.

"If you called him, he'd probably visit," Sam said. 

"It's not Cas anymore, Sam, you heard Balthazar," Dean replied from under the hood of the newest junker he adopted as his pet project. 

"I'm going to check out that house," Sam said with finality in his voice. "Bobby's out with Jody for the entire day, so... you've got the place to yourself."

Sam stalked off and got into the Impala, driving off. Dean continued to tinker for a few minutes after the sound of his baby's engine disappeared into the distance, but it was all a show. He tossed the socket wrench he was using across the yard, where it crashed into some scrap metal. Then he promptly fell on his ass, crushed under the weight of his own frustration and loneliness.

He hadn't felt this way since he saw Sam's dead body on the ground – when Jake had sliced through his brother's back to save his own damn skin. Dean hated himself - hated his life. And, most of all, he hated not having Castiel around anymore. 

He didn't realize that Castiel was, in fact, around right now, watching over him. He had approached, invisible, when Balthazar threatened to smite the Winchesters. Despite their friendship, the other angel had always been a bit petulant, so it was best to be cautious. 

At first, Cas didn't know why he waited after Balthazar left. It was clear Dean remained invested in the idea that Castiel's new-found power would only result in detriment to the world, in spite of all the evidence, of all he had done. The confirmation of the obvious had smarted in a way he had not expected; yet he watched over the Winchesters as they talked.

Dean lied to his brother, and any doubt Cas had vanished at the elder Winchester's tantrum. 

Cas knew, dimly, that feeling hurt over Balthazar's words was ridiculous. He was just an angel that had once been his friend. The same idea applied to Dean, who was just a human. That idea kept his rage quelled. Neither one of them was worth his happiness, so how could either be worth his wrath?

Yet, the tiniest spark of hope came to life when Dean collapsed. It indicated that the hunter wanted Castiel back in his life, somehow. And while such a small thing shouldn't matter, it did. For the first time since he had shouldered the burden of the souls in Purgatory, Cas experienced genuine joy.

And something occurred to him. He would have to deal with Dean later.

 

"The last time we spoke, you threatened to kill me," Atropos said to Castiel. "Why should I expect this time to be any different?"

"Because you have a purpose," Cas replied.

"You didn't think so before."

"Before I was a foolish angel fighting a war that I couldn't win," he replied sharply. "But now that it's over, your work is necessary again."

"Necessary? You have some other plan? Some great Destiny?" she harped.

"No."

"Then how can I help you?"

"We both know that you, and I'm sure your sister Fates as well, have all grown beyond needing a manual to do your job," Cas said. "You proved during Balthazar's excursion with the Titanic that you are creative and complex in a way that no one had expected from you before."

Atropos pursed her lips. "Don't try to fool me with flattery. Even then I had a script, a list of names to eliminate."

"Indeed, but you didn't know how or when. That was of your own choosing. Is it so illogical to assume you capable of choosing why someone dies?"

"Why is a much harder question," she replied. "If there's no greater mission, no grand plot – "

"Then there is only Fate, however beautiful or however cruel, meting out Destiny to a select few."

"Select few?" she asked.

"There's no need to direct every human being on this planet," Cas dismissed. "There are too many of them and their numbers grow every year. They often fall into like patterns. You select a handful and assign them higher destinies, whatever you wish, and continue your work."

Atropos looked at Castiel as if he was giving her something too good to be true.

"You're not God," she said.

"That is why I am not handing you orders," Cas said. "I am merely trying to maintain the order he once established. You and your sisters played a vital role, not just in the apocalypse, but in the natural order of the world. I'm only asking that you go back to your duties with new freedoms."

"And if I don't?" she asked.

Cas remained patient because, for all her rigidity, Atropos was simple at her core. He replied, "Then you and your sisters will remain without guidance, without a job, as you called it."

"I imagined you'll kill us," she said. 

"Why?"

"For disobedience."

"You said that I am not God," Castiel said evenly. Then he vanished.

 

It took Cas a full day of eliminating demons in Russia to free himself from the dredges of his anger. Why was it so difficult to get people to do the work they were made for? Atropos and her sister Fates could continue on with their work in a time of free will, yet they stopped once the apocalypse was averted. And the conversation had left him feeling miserable. He was so certain that Anna would be able to guide the angels, and certain that the Fates would desire a return to their former occupation – yet everyone fought their own nature.

Was it to spite him? That was all he could consider, but he refrained from lashing out on anything other than monsters and demons, for now.

 

A week after Balthazar dropped in to chat, Dean told Bobby and Sam that he wanted to check out a possible case in Texas.

"You know that'll just send whatever's there runnin'," Bobby pointed out.

"Yeah, well, at least people will stop dying," Dean said. "And besides, I want to take the Impala out for a long test drive. Two birds."

"I'll come with you – " Sam started.

"Thought you were working on that house," Dean cut his brother off.

"It can wait a week, Dean."

"I'm a supernatural scarecrow, Sammy. I don't need any help with that stuff," Dean replied. "And I just wanna drive by myself."

Sam realized that the honesty from Dean was new and certainly a step in the right direction. So he conceded, "All right, but do me a favor and check in? With our luck, the first thing you check out by yourself will be a super-pissed-off spirit that possesses you or something."

"Sure thing," Dean dismissed as he booked it out of the house.

"That can't be a good sign," Bobby said. "You think he's alrigh'?"

"No, but at least he's not lying about it anymore," Sam pointed out.

 

Dean had been completely truthful. There was a case in Texas, and he was pretty certain that the perpetrators were shifters because the basic gist of the case included doppelganger overtones.

As he predicted, when he arrived in Longhorn, Texas, the shifters evaporated from the immediate area. He called Sam and Bobby to let them know.

"Yeah, they're all blown out of town for now," Dean said. "Which at least means no more casualties."

"You'll be back late tomorrow?" Sam asked. 

"No, I think I'll stay here for a few days to keep them away."

"Dean, if you want some time alone, you don't have to be halfway across the country – "

"I know that," Dean cut his brother off. "I'm not staying here to be alone, I'm staying here to keep the damn shifters away."

"All righ', calm yourself," Bobby chimed in. Damn speakerphone. "Jus' git back here when you're done."

"Right, thanks guys."

Dean hung up.

 

Dean had only lied a little. He did stay in town to keep the shifters away, but he also needed to be away from Bobby and Sam. He loved them, but they pussyfooted around him like he would lose his sanity at any moment. It made him feel so damn _fragile_.

He spent three more days in Longhorn, visiting a different bar every night. Women openly made passes at him, and he entertained a few of them. But he didn't drink much, and he brought none of them back to his motel room. He just flopped on the king-sized bed at night and tried to sleep.

It was the fourth morning when it happened. The sun was in his eyes, so he rolled away from the windows and found himself in full fetal position. He craved comfort because depression had tapped into his spine, and he couldn't shake it off by distraction. He missed Cas.

As if his thoughts summoned the former angel, Castiel appeared in the room. There wasn't a rustling of wings or any sound at all to announce his presence, but Dean felt it somehow.

"Why are you here, Cas?" Dean asked without moving. 

"You called me."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

Dean didn't reply. 

"You called, and I came because I love you and miss you."

Dean's insides jolted.

"I only waited for an invitation because otherwise I felt unwanted."

Dean unfurled from his fetal position and rolled over onto his back. He asked, "So, you're God now? With a big 'G'?"

"No."

Dean's eyes glinted with hope. "You put the souls back?"

"No. But being God is not a preferable job. Heaven is unbearable. Teaching angels about free will is like explaining poetry to reptiles."

"So you just gave up?" Dean asked incredulously.

"I set an example. Then sent Anna and Balthazar to handle it."

"Balthazar?" Dean repeated. "He's gonna teach angels about free will?"

"Do you know of another angel qualified for that?"

"When you were an angel, you had free will, but didn't go back in time and unsink ships – "

"You called for me," Cas interrupted.

"I didn't!"

"I missed you."

"Just put the souls back," Dean said. "You don't need them anymore."

"You're assuming that Raphael's death is enough," Cas replied. "But many are angered by his passing, and with no more Archangels, anarchy may still set in."

"So you're keeping the axe raised over their heads?"

"I am giving all of them someone to fear," Cas replied dully. "Or hate, depending on the angel. My own soldiers don't approach me anymore, except to bring me news."

"So...you've spent the last, what, six weeks, alone?"

"So to speak," Cas replied quietly. "Then again, so have you."

"I've been with Bobby and Sam."

"You've been around them, but you've not been with them. That is why you are here, isn't it?"

"No, I came here to scarecrow some shifters out of town," Dean bickered. "And thanks for that."

Cas ignored that last comment. "I missed you."

"You said that."

"And you've missed me."

"Why are you here, Cas?"

"Because I wanted to be with you."

"Yeah, well, I'm not interested in being with some dude who swallowed all of Purgatory."

"It's just me, Dean," Cas replied. 

And Dean saw it, how tired and hollow Castiel looked. If what Cas said was true, he'd just spent six weeks without the company of others, cleaning up the mess of the past year and preventing the angels from going all apocalypse now - _again_.

"You don't feel like killing everybody? You know, from all the monster souls?" Dean asked. 

"Not generally, no," Cas said. "Raphael ruled with an iron fist. It came to no good. I can't expect a better result."

"So you just decided to drop in? Don't you have things to do?"

"Just things to keep me busy."

"You said – you loved me."

"I love you, present tense."

"Then return the souls to Purgatory."

"I cannot."

"Can't or won't?"

"Cannot."

"To keep your siblings in check?" Dean scoffed.

"Because the doorway only opens in the eclipse," Cas replied quietly. 

"You're gonna put them back in the next eclipse?"

"There won't be one until December."

"So make one happen."

"That – is not advisable."

"Why?" Dean demanded, getting to his feet.

"Because I don't plan on returning all the souls to Purgatory."

"Oh no? Keeping some for the boost to your ego?"

"Everyone turned into a monster by Eve's children winds up in Purgatory," Cas stated evenly. "That includes people who were just turned and killed. People who didn't even know they were monsters. Monsters who never harmed a human being."

"So, what, you're just going to keep them?" Dean asked suspiciously. 

"No, they'll be left in Heaven," Cas replied. His face was resigned. "You always expect the worst from me."

"You lied to me for months, Cas, _months_! Of course I expect the worst. I expect you to run off and explode because you weren't made to have all the souls of Purgatory inside your body!"

"I won't explode," Cas said. "I've syphoned off the overload of souls as needed."

Dean had gotten very close to the former angel. He wasn't sure why, but proximity suddenly became very important. 

"Cas, you've exploded twice already."

"It was deeply unpleasant both times," Cas replied. "And both times it happened for your sake."

"I don't want you to explode _again_ ," Dean said, purposely avoiding Castiel's last comment.

Silence filled the room, and though it was unnerving to be with Cas, someone so power and simultaneously so haunted, the lack of sound wasn't uncomfortable at all. Dean's unconscious mind slipped into the pleasant quietness, and all at once some of his most intimate dreams came to the surface, lead by the desperate hope that the person in the room with him was his Castiel, and not some monster wearing his face.

Cas blushed and turned away.

"What?"

"Your – thoughts are not silent, Dean."

Dean reddened at the idea. "Stay out of my head!"

"It is difficult when your thoughts are so – passionate."

Now the silence _was_ uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Cas stood behind Dean, so close that Dean felt his breath on his shoulder. 

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, but he didn't move away.

"You've had dreams about this before," Cas said.

Dean wanted to whip around and order Cas to stay out of his head, but he _had_ had this dream before. That reminder elicited a very different kind of want in Dean. And right now, as far as the hunter was concerned, they were just two soldiers, outcast and weary, seeking comfort in each other. 

"If you want me to leave," Cas whispered into Dean's ear, "you need only ask."

"And what happens when I do that?" Dean asked.

"I leave."

"That's it?"

"I have protected you for a very long time, Dean. I haven't meant you any harm before, and there is no reason for me to start now," Cas replied miserably as he began to pull away.

"Cas, you said that I had this dream before," Dean said. 

"Yes."

"I thought that meant that you know how it _goes_."

"I – " Cas began, but he couldn't think of what to say next. He had expected rejection. 

Dean turned around and pulled Cas to his hip, then down into a gentle kiss. "You know how it goes?" he asked.

"Yes."

But it was clear on Cas's face that being powered-up didn't change the fact that he had no experience with sex, let alone any kind of subordinate or dominant play that went with it.

"Look at me," Dean said. "Look."

Cas met his eyes, his pupils wildly dilated. 

"You can feel my thoughts, or something?" Dean asked, not sure if he wanted the answer. 

"When they are – deep, emotional – " 

"Sexual?" Dean offered.

Cas nodded. His erection rubbed against Dean's hip at the awkward angle Dean grappled them together, and he licked his lips. Dean had dreams about this, but even the most explicit ones failed to capture Castiel's handsome, fine features building to lust like this. To bare witness to it must be a spectacular kind of sin.

"So you'd know if you've pushed too far," Dean said.

"I don't want to push too far," Cas said quietly.

"But you know how the dream goes," Dean repeated. "You want to try and follow it?"

Cas's breath hitched. They had done barely more than kiss, and he was on his way to becoming completely undone. "Yes," he replied. "I do."

Dean pulled Cas into another kiss, slipping his tongue into the mix. The former angel knew something about kissing, clearly, because he reciprocated like he'd been doing it all his life. It occurred to Dean that Cas might literally be getting it all from his book, the whole sexual-thoughts-are-loud thing being in play. 

His hands shaking, Castiel grabbed Dean by the hips and threw him onto the bed. It took Dean's brain a moment to register what just happened, and as soon as it did, his dick hardened almost immediately. This was _better_ then the damn dream ever was – 

Cas pulled Dean up onto his knees, kissing and biting at his neck and ears, pawing at his t-shirt, pulling it up. It disappeared, along with the trench coat and Cas's own button up shirt, so when he yanked Dean back in a chokehold, skin touched skin. 

Dean was sweating, panting – his entire body was already flushed, and Castiel's skin added to the heat. 

"Strip," Castiel ordered.

The former angel held Dean in a kneeling position, making it difficult to pull off his pants and boxers, but Cas didn't relent, proving he had intimate knowledge of the content of Dean's recurrent sex dream. Dean recognized that it should have been invasive, but instead it was intoxicating. As soon as he dropped his cloths to his knees, Cas tugged them the rest of the way off, all the while pressing kisses and hickeys into his back. 

Once fully naked, Castiel wrapped one arm across Dean's neck, similar to the chokehold he used before. Immediately, the hunter's hands flew up to Cas's arm, gently resisting to prevent loss of oxygen. Now Dean was completely exposed, his hands and arms tied up in the embrace he had been dreaming of for over two years. 

Cas bit down on his neck, sucking another hickey, as his unused hand reached around and gripped the base of Dean's hardened shaft. He moaned at the simple touch, the first friction, and he moaned again as Cas pressed his entire body against Dean, his erection leaking precome over Dean's back and ass. 

Then he started to stroke. Cas's hand was wet, like he had lube, and Dean suspected Cas might've tapped into his mojo for the effect. His hips jerked uselessly with the motion, his entire body snapping back because of the chokehold. He loved it.

"Cas – Cas – " he moaned out, unable to string a coherent thought together. 

"You're going to come," Cas rasped in his ear, quickening his strokes and adding a twist with his wrist.

"I'm – I am – Cas!" was all Dean managed as he spurted. He felt like he hadn't had a release in years. 

Cas whispered, "I'm going to let you go, and you're going to move up on the bed, and stay on your hands and knees."

"Y-yes, I will," Dean replied, scrambling to comply. 

Cas joined him on the bed, rubbing his hands on Dean's thighs as his body spasmed with happy little jerks. The hunter hadn't come that hard in months, and the warm feeling in his gut didn't go away. The former angel rubbed a thumb across Dean's hole, eliciting a shudder. His fingers had some kind of warming lube on them, but there wasn't a bottle nearby. Clearly it was a supernatural perk.

Cas rubbed his left hand up Dean's inner thigh, causing his softening erecting to rebound at an excessively swift rate. 

"Cas – please..." Dean keened.

Cas didn't need to ask what Dean wanted; he slipped a single finger inside, gently covering his inside with the same lube used on his dick. Dean's immediate response was to jerk back, impaling himself on the friction.

"No," Cas commanded. "You will stay still."

Dean whimpered as Cas continued to swirl his thumb on the outside and his finger on the inside, but he obeyed. Cas's free hand moved from Dean's thighs to his untouched nipples and rubbed aimlessly, pushing another sigh out of Dean. 

A second finger reduced Dean to a quivering mess, and Cas drew it out, slowly rubbing and twisting as he scissored Dean open. 

For good measure Cas added a third finger, and Dean almost came again when he hit his prostate. "Cas!"

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Cas rasped, using his own knees to push Dean's legs apart. "Keep saying my name," he ordered.

Hit his prostate again, gaining another cry of his name from Dean. He couldn't wait any longer. Dean's dreams had made him first sexually curious, then sexually tempted, and now that he finally had the hunter unwound and bent over in front of him, his desire peeked. 

He pulled his fingers out and positioned himself behind Dean, splaying his legs out more. The head of his cock played at Dean's prepared opening, and Dean stuttered out something that could've been begging. It was hard to tell given that he dropped onto his elbows to give Cas a better angle. 

Slowly, Castiel pushed in, giving Dean the chance to protest. He knew that wasn't part of the hunter's dreams, so he didn't vocalize it, but he listened nonetheless. All he could feel was the intense desire, the need for sexual fulfillment, radiating out of Dean and back into Cas – the sensation of being enveloped by Dean broke Cas's resolve. "Dean – " he sighed. 

"Cas – "

The former angel pulled out, leaving the head of his dick inside, then thrust back in, hitting Dean's prostate and making the hunter buck and groan. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. He had never imagined physical pleasure being so fulfilling. 

In Dean's dream, Castiel remained upright and held on to Dean by the hipbones while mercilessly plunging into the hunter. But Cas wanted more than that. He wanted to feel every part of Dean, he wanted to kiss him, to love him – 

He leaned over Dean and nipped as his neck and spine. "I hope you don't mind a little improvisation," Cas whispered. Dean bit his lip to prevent him from saying "Fuck, yes!" but he thought it loud enough that Cas heard it anyway. 

Cas quickened the pace, and the room filled with wet sloppy sounds and heavy panting, punctuated by moans and whines from both of them. As Dean threw his head back, the former angel seized his neglected cock and started to fondle, then stroke, it in time with the thrusts. 

Dean had fantasized about this, but Castiel's "improvisation" elevated his fantasy to ecstasy, building his climax to an almost unbearable point. But he waited, he needed to wait, because he'd already gotten off once, and Cas hadn't – he desperately wanted Cas to come inside him – 

"You're going to come for me," Cas ordered. 

"Cas - but – C-cas – "

"You will come for me, Dean," Cas insisted, increasing the pace to a brutal level, each movement hitting the right spot and shaking his body. The friction drove Cas to the edge. "Come!" he barked into Dean's ear. 

And Dean came, hard. Every muscle in his body clenched and relaxed, finally tumbling Cas over into his first orgasm, spurting semen into Dean, mixing with the supernatural lube currently coating the hunter's insides. 

Cas pulled out, but he kept pumping Dean's erection till it started to soften. The friction kept the small, happy throbs of pleasure jolting all over Dean's body. 

The former angel rolled Dean over onto his back and kissed, long and deep and slow. 

"Do you want me to go? Because that was the end of the dream – " Cas began.

"Screw the dream," Dean interrupted. "I have you."


	3. Scent of a Smile

'This entire scenario is stupid,' was Dean's first thought in the morning. 'When your best friend swallows Purgatory and goes off on some random mission, screwing him is not a solution.' Damn, it was like Dean downloaded Sam into his head and that pissed him off, so he discarded the thought. Who cared if it was a bad idea? 

He rolled over, surprised that his body wasn't sore from the prior night's athletics. He suspected that Cas might've healed any sore muscles while he was sleeping.

Dean felt a pang of guilt suddenly. He'd ask Cas to live out one of his fantasies – and holy hell it had been incredible – but maybe it hadn't been the best way to introduce the angel – former angel, whatever he was now – to sex.

"Actually, it was perfect," Castiel said quietly in Dean's ear.

"Hey, don't – telepath me or whatever."

"Guilt is loud, Dean," Cas replied. "And surprising. You've nothing to feel guilty for." Cas leaned down and placed a quiet kiss on Dean's forehead. "Thank you, Dean."

"You mean thank _you_."

Cas's face reflected his confusion, and he cocked his head just like he used to back before – before whatever the hell was happening now.

"Balthazar is calling me," Cas replied. 

"Your frat bro wants to throw another kegger?" 

Clearly Cas had no idea what that question meant, but he replied, "Unrest in Heaven. I have to go. I'm – "

"It's okay. If you have a minute later, maybe drop back in?" Dean asked.

"I will."

And he was gone.

 

Castiel had remained in the motel room for the entire night, watching as Dean slept. The power inside of the former angel burned more potently than a supernova, but it quelled at the sight of Dean's vulnerable, unconscious body. 

The desire to possess Dean, to _own_ him, roared inside of him, and there were more than a few minutes when he almost submitted to those clawing, demanding urges. But he knew Dean would have none of it. 

In many of his sexual fantasies, Dean played a submissive or even dominated role, but Cas wasn't fooled. The fantasies were more complex than the surface, just as Dean was. His desire to be dominated, above all else, was rooted in his desperation to trust, to be vulnerable with someone in a way that was raw and, ultimately, safe. Dean's sexual interest in submitting had nothing to do with being passive but instead related to his enjoyment of another kind of power. After all, the submissive partner was the one in control, since he decided what was acceptable and what was too much. 

At least, that was as much as Castiel could glean from the hunter's resting soul. Part of him wondered if he could stare into Dean Winchester forever, the bright prism of his soul breaking every slant of light into magnificent colors.

 

"You aren't concerned, then?" Balthazar asked.

"About what, exactly?"

"That your boyfriend has a plan to undermine you."

"You mean the plan you went to the Winchesters to talk about?" Cas asked. 

"Yes, that one," Balthazar replied unabashed.

"Balthazar, you told me there was unrest in Heaven," Cas said. "I see no such thing."

"Ah, because Gideon quelled it. I offered to plead on his behalf."

"Pleading? You?"

"Well, talk at you anyway."

"Why did you call me here?"

"One of Raphael's soldiers, Calcifer, threatened Hannah's new position. When he went to act on this, Gideon attacked. As far as I can tell, he did try hard no to, you know, kill him."

"And Hannah?"

"What? Oh, she's fine."

"Send Gideon to me."

"Cas, you're right. Pleading isn't my thing, but he killed his own ally, someone from his side, to protect another angel."

"Send Gideon to me."

"Very well."

 

Castiel thought about destroying Gideon as some kind of ultimate example, but Raphael had exploded under Castiel's wrath. An archangel was a far better example to set than someone like Gideon, especially because his trespass, breaking the no-violence-between-angels rule, had protected Hannah. 

"Calcifer sowed discord," Cas said. "I understand why you did what you did. But that doesn't make it acceptable."

Gideon bowed his head, ready for the punishment of death.

"What do you think your penance should be?" Castiel asked him.

"I...do not know."

"Calcifer was your friend, wasn't he?"

"He was. And a good brother. As Hannah is a good sister."

"Put up your blade," Castiel replied. "And aid Joshua in the Garden."

"The Garden?" Gideon asked. It was a place of privilege among angels, not a place of punishment. "I don't deserve to walk there."

"You are an angel of the same Father as me and ever loyal to him, and therefore you do deserve to walk there. For a year, you will put up your sword and tend the garden. Will you abide?"

"I will. Thank – thank you."

"This is not an order," Castiel replied. "But guidance. Never call me for judgment, brother. It is not my place."

With that, Cas left Heaven again.

 

Dean had finished packing when Balthazar suddenly appeared in his motel room.

"So, you _do_ have a plan after all," Balthazar said happily. 

"You ever hear of knocking?" Dean sniped. 

"Of course, but what point would there be? You'd hardly let me in."

"On that note, I'm on my way out, so – "

Balthazar blocked the door.

"Seriously?"

"I would like to avoid dying this time," Balthazar said. "So what are you planning?"

"Nothing," Dean replied.

"Nothing?"

"That's what I just said."

"I'm sorry, so you just screwed a very confused, hyper-powered angel that lied to you for months because... why?"

"Balthazar, go away."

"You can't possibly be that stupid," Balthazar continued. "To let your heart rule your head, or in this case, your survival instincts. You must have something up your sleeve."

"Is this the 'unrest' in Heaven?" Dean asked shrewdly. 

"Hardly," Balthazar said through gritted teeth. 

"There is no plan," Dean replied. "Leave me alone."

Balthazar squinted, sizing the hunter up. "You _are_ that stupid."

After the annoying angel disappeared, Dean loaded up his car. A nagging sensation burrowed into his stomach; that look Balthazar gave him, it was like he saw something. A voice whispered in his head that Castiel had mojoed him into it somehow, overcast his mind. 

Dean shook it off. He remembered what happened; Balthazar came down just to annoy him, nothing more.

Dean drove off, not realizing that he left an invisible Balthazar cursing in his wake. Dean had thrown the angel's doubt spell off with unusual ease – 

"Balthazar," a familiar voice said. 

The angel spun around and came face to face with Atropos. 

"Ah, it's you again."

"Stay out of this," she instructed.

"This? What's _this_?" Balthazar asked. "Isn't anyone else concerned with what's actually going on?"

"Fate has set Dean Winchester on a path," Atropos replied. "Your interference won't amount to anything."

"Is that so?" Balthazar said, pulling out his blade.

"Please," she replied, dismissing him entirely. "This is too big for the likes of you. I recommend you go back to Heaven and deal with your siblings."

"And why should I do that?"

Atropos gave him a knowing smile. "Because angels play follow the leader. They mimic the behavior of the one in charge, or they try to. Right now, all the angels are looking at Castiel. They're being guided by Anna, and Anna alone."

"What's your point?" Balthazar growled.

"I don't want to hear you pissing and moaning for the rest of eternity, that's the point!" Atropos yelled. 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"At this rate, all the angels are trying to be like Anna and Castiel. So tell me, Balthazar, how will you fair with all your siblings like that, forever?"

"That's ghastly," Balthazar said. "Don't say things like that – "

Atropos gave him a knowing smile. "Then get off your ass and do your damn job. Otherwise it'll be on your head forever!"

"Who're you to tell me what to do?"

"Fate," she said.

"Screw 'Fate,' you were a hot mess a few months ago, don't give me – "

"Fate with a new level of confidence," she said. 

Then she disappeared.

Balthazar thought for a moment that this all must be some colossal joke. If Anna and Castiel were the ones his siblings took after, then they would all perpetually have sticks up their asses – forever. The entire Heavenly Host! Not a single laugh or joke among any of them, other than chaste smiles over the prancing humans beneath them on Earth.

That, easily, was worse than being dead. He immediately returned to his place in Heaven. By his Father, he'd figure out how to get at least _some_ of them to misbehave.

 

"It's just another night," Dean said into his phone.

"You've been gone for over a week. This was supposed to be an easy case," Sam replied. 

"I'm too tired to finish the drive. You want me to fall asleep behind the wheel?" Dean countered.

"No, of course not – "

"Then stop making _everything_ a Dr. Phil moment, okay?"

"Fine. Whatever. Stop being a dick."

"Bitch."

Sam hung up this time, and Dean took smug satisfaction at finally getting Sam to back off on his pseudo-therapy sessions.

"Cas," Dean said to the empty motel room. "I miss you."

The former angel appeared, suddenly. "Dean."

"You were serious before, weren't you?" Dean asked.

"About what?"

"Getting rid of the souls? Putting them back in the eclipse?"

"Yes, I am."

"So, why not do an eclipse right now," Dean asked. "Just, get rid of them all."

"Because I don't have the power to re-open the gate, cause an eclipse, and safely and deliberately expel all the souls from my body anymore."

"Cas, you declared yourself God, now you don't have the power. What the hell?" Dean asked.

"I was drunk on power at the moment, and I have already dispensed with some of the souls."

"What?"

"Mostly to keep Crowley busy," the former angel replied. "And so far it's working."

"You gave that bozo souls? Cas – "

"I gave him a handful," Cas replied. "Not quite souls, the first monsters – Leviathan, they were called – dangerous in many ways. I doubt they'll enjoy Hell, but they can't traverse it like demons can. Presently they're wreaking havoc with Crowley's world."

"And once he gets them under control? Then what?"

"He won't," Cas replied quietly. "All he can do is lock them away in an especially deep part of Hell. They're not like souls, they don't generate for the plane they exist in. Just mayhem."

"I need to you to make me a promise, a vow, whatever," Dean said. "That when the next eclipse goes down, you will put those souls back."

Cas seemed even more tired than before, but he took the hunters hands in his own. "I promise you, Dean Winchester, that I will do as you say. I'll need your help in that endeavor."

"But that's, what, four months away?" Dean asked. "Longer? What will you do until then?"

"What will I do?" Cas repeated quietly. 

Dean pulled him into an awkward, but pleasant, kiss. Castiel encircled Dean with his arms, pressing their bodies together. The hunter could sense, from Cas's tentative hold, that the former angel remained unsure of himself, despite his rather marvelous performance the night before.

So Dean started removing Cas's clothing. The trench coat, the tie, the button-up shirt all fell to the floor as Dean stripped and teased. His wet lips covered Cas's neck and collarbone, his abs, his stomach – 

"Dean – I – "

"Shh," Dean said. "It's my turn."

Castiel had no idea what that meant, but he undressed Dean anyway, fully trusting that his partner would guide him through. 

Dean pushed Cas onto the bed, discarding their pants and kneeling below the bed, his hands pawing at the former angel's growing erection. Cas moaned as Dean took his time, petting the insides of his thighs, nipping at his hipbones, and slowly peeling down his boxers. 

Cas tried to pull Dean up onto the bed, but the hunter hushed him and gave him a clever smile that sent chills up his spine. 

The Dean parted his lips and playfully pursed them around the head of Castiel's dick. Cas quivered as Dean's slippery tongue licked him, top to bottom, and after the hunter's saliva coated his member thoroughly, Dean took as much of Castiel into his mouth as physically possible. 

"D-Dean!" 

Cas could hardly think, and no sooner had he adjusted to the new wave of pleasure than Dean started to rim his hole. As Dean had no super powers, he restored to a store brand lubricant, but it was more than sufficient for its task. Dean pushed one finger in, then two, searching for the spot inside Castiel that would – 

White spots covered his field of vision as Dean thrust against his prostate. Cas couldn't help but buck forward, his hips jerking his erection further into Dean's mouth, but he remained unphased, focused entirely on leaving Cas a wrecked mess. It didn't take much more to send the former angel into the throws of orgasm, and Dean waited, milking the orgasm and the moans as long as possible.

Cas shuddered on the bed, but Dean wasn't done yet. He crawled on top, having discarded his boxers. He pressed wet kisses and sharp nips into Cas's stomach, abs, then started in on one nipple. Cas remained almost passive for the first few moments, but once Dean was close enough he dragged him into a kiss.

Dean's wry smile and dilated pupils caught Cas by surprise, as did the blood rushing back into his cock, which hardened again with Dean's persistent touching. The former angel let his hands explore Dean's body – his neck, his shoulders, his spine, his ass – all the while Dean sucked a distinguished hickey into the angel's neck.

Almost roughly, the hunter yanked Cas's knees into the air, exposing his lubricated hole and began to prepare him. Cas tilted his hips, almost folding himself in half, to open up to Dean's ministrations. Dean took a moment, leaned in, and whispered to Cas, "You sure? You could just be on your back."

A sloppy kiss prevented the former angel from responding, but when it broke, Cas said, "Please Dean... _please_."

Dean removed his fingers and aligned the head of his cock to Cas's entrance, angling his hips. Here he was, looking down on his super-angel, who was panting and sweating and earnest for more. So Dean rocked onto his heels and slid down and in.

His feet gave him purchase, and the angle gave him depth. He took Cas by the hips and thrust, gently at first, but soon each plunge started on his toes and ended with his hips snapping down to Castiel's – the latter's cries and moans filling the motel.

It didn't take long for Cas to spurt, and Dean soon followed him, breathless and reckless and so damn tired – the afterglow was more of an ember. As the post-sex haze clouded over Dean, Cas wrapped him in blankets and covered his body with his own.

 

"There's something I haven't told you," Cas said to Dean as soon as his eyes fluttered opened. 

It was five in the morning; the sun wasn't up yet. 

"What?" Dean asked. 

"I – received information," Cas began. 

"From who?"

"From me."

"Cas, it's too early for riddles."

"Apparently, in another time line, I – did some horrible things. So I rewound time to fix it, but that wasn't enough. I made the same mistakes over again, so... I came into this time line to guide myself on the right path."

Dean was alert now and listening to every single word.

"I feel profoundly guilty at the things I did," Cas said.

"You mean, the things that other-time-line-you did?" Dean asked. "Right?"

"Yes," Cas replied.

"But you haven't done them – "

"I would have," Cas said quietly. "I didn't want to believe it at first, but as he revealed more to me about how everything fell apart, I knew it was true."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Dean asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I feel that not telling you... it... it feels like lying," Cas whispered. "And that never ends well."

Dean cupped his cheek and kissed him, slow and tender. "You can tell me anything, Cas. Anything."

"I said I did terrible things, Dean. I wish that was an exaggeration."

"You _didn't_ do them. The other you, the one that did do them, he screwed with time to fix it."

"I'm afraid you will not feel the same for me after I tell you."

"Don't worry about that, Cas," Dean said. "I'm here. You can tell me anything."


	4. Come with Me, Take One

"I am your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you."

Sam's whimpering became immediately annoying, so Cas engaged an invisible force that dropped the oversized hunter to his knees. Dean and Bobby were too afraid to move, so he lorded the same force over them.

"Cas – " Dean began.

"Castiel, you are no longer afforded a shorter name," Cas said. 

"You said you'd fix Sam – "

"If you stood down, which you clearly didn't."

Cas waved his hands, and Bobby and Sam vanished.

"Where – where did you send them?"

They were no longer in the room where Raphael exploded, but instead were in some kind of motel room. It was nicer than some but far from five star.

Cas grabbed Dean by the throat and lifted him off his feet. "I will fix your brother's head if you submit to me completely. You become my squire."

"I don't even know what that means."

"You will be mine," Cas said. "Your flesh, your soul, your will."

"Cas, I'd be terrible at that - "

"If you don't, then Sam will be dead in a few days by his own hand, and his soul will go to Crowley."

"Cas – C-c – " Dean tried to speak, but the air was finally depleting from his lungs.

Castiel, or whatever wore his face, tossed Dean across the room, and he landed hard on the bed. His newfound freedom to breathe left him gasping and coughing.

"Your first directive will be simple. Stay in this room. You may call Bobby and Sam, but otherwise you will not engage contact with anyone else. You will warn Bobby that any attempts to retrieve you will be futile and dangerous for him. Do you understand?"

Dean's response was punctuated by coughs, "Stay here alone. Don't talk to anyone but Bobby or Sam – "

"There is food in the kitchenette. Do not eat anything else."

Castiel disappeared. 

Dean quickly took in his surroundings. He didn't recognize the terrain outside, so he hadn't been here before. He glanced out the window and made out a few basic shapes, but the room he was in didn't have a good angle on any of the signs. He could be anywhere.

He pulled out his phone. There were no bars, and his phone read OUT OF SERVICE AREA. Maybe Cas dropped him in BFE somewhere with no cell towers.

Dean picked up the landline room phone and tried to dial out. The phone made a number of annoying noises, but it didn't ring at all. He hung up and tried again, this time dialing nine first, but the phone still failed. 

"Damn it," Dean cursed, shifting around the bedside table, searching for instructions to use the phone.

The drawer had a laminated card, but it was in two languages, neither of which was English. Dean suspected one might be German and the other French, which would explain the out of area message. Apparently Castiel dropped him in BFE _Europe_ , which was definitely outside his coverage zone.

The hunter had only been outside of the USA a handful of times, the majority of which were to Canada or Mexico. He and Sam had flown to Scotland that one time to find Crowley's bones and help Bobby get out of his demon deal, but the brothers had returned to the United States almost immediately. And Sam, of course, dealt with the phone issue.

There was some special trick to calling to the USA from Europe, but he couldn't remember it. He stared at the card, hard, until he saw a distinct pattern identified as such: zero, zero, one, then the area code and number. Dean followed it, and _finally_ the phone rang.

"Hello?" Bobby's voice came over the phone, skeptical as hell.

"Bobby, it's Dean."

"Dean? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just – somewhere. I think in Europe."

"Damn right, this call is gonna cost, boy. So make it worth it."

"I'm fine, so don't bother trying to find me. I don't think Cas wants to hurt me," Dean said quickly. "You ever read about a squire to an angel? Or deity or whatever?"

"Squire to a knight, sure," Bobby said. "Was that the word he used?"

"Yeah, just read up on it and call me back at – whatever the hell this number is."

"I can always take a plane – "

"No, Bobby," Dean cut him off. "I'm fine. I really am. You need to keep a close eye on Sam."

"He's – well, twitchy and looks white as a sheet, but otherwise he's... he's still vertical," Bobby finished without much conviction.

"Cas – he told me he'll take his own life, so – "

"He said that?"

Dean thought hard about this. "Well, not exactly. Just that he'd die by his own hand, so... I guess he could mean an accident or something. Just – keep an eye on him, okay?"

"An' what abou' you?"

"Cas has me, so I'm safe."

"Dean, lis'en – "

"Bobby, please."

"Fine, I promise. Jus' keep your head on straigh'."

"I got it, okay? Don't look for me, and don't try to come and get me or send anyone."

"Damn it, boy!"

"Bobby."

"Fine."

 

Dean tended to his injuries. The worse was a deep bruise forming on his neck where Castiel's hand had held him up, but there was nothing he could do about it. It'd have to heal on its own.

He honestly meant what he said to Bobby. He didn't think Cas had any intention of harming him. Cas had kicked his ass more than once, certainly, but Castiel was a celestial being and always had the power to wipe Dean off the map whenever he chose. Even when Dean interfered in Cas's Purgatory plans, the angel had resorted to blackmail and leverage. He could've easily killed them, or hit them with a whammy, or any number of other things that would've guaranteed their absence. 

Something in the pit of his stomach warned him, though, that Castiel wasn't that same person anymore. It wasn't just the lies anymore; now the angel had an extreme nuclear power-up and considered himself God. And whatever Cas had meant by 'squire' couldn't be good, if he wanted Dean's soul, will, and _flesh_. He was especially wary of that last one.

He checked his coat pockets. He had everything he left, including the Impala's keys. His heart broke a little when he considered the state his beloved car must've been.

He whiled the time by watching TV in German and French. He picked through the sandwich in the kitchenette, which was roast beef with some kind of crumbly cheese, but it also had too much greenery on it. It was more Sam's style than Dean's, but it tasted pretty damn good after he removed the lettuce and crap from it.

After about four hours, Dean was going a bit stir crazy. As much as he made fun of Sam for it, he started working out. He didn't have any machinery or weights, so he did crunches, squats, freehand rows, push ups, and so on. At the very least, it distracted him from the clock, which he decided must be rigged to move more slowly than it should.

His stomach growled. It had been about eight hours since he ate, so he went back to the kitchenette to see if there was anything leftover from the sandwich. Instead, he found a fruit salad and pork chop kind of thing, which he was certain wasn't there earlier. A note next to the meal said, "Eat everything." Apparently Castiel was now his mother. Regardless, Dean did as the note instructed, and the food was actually quite pleasant.

He showered and shaved. When he stepped out of the shower, Castiel reappeared in the room. He wasn't aware of this until he came out of the bathroom in nothing but his boxers. Dean immediately sought to cover himself, but something invisible prevented him from bringing his arms in front.

"Your nudity is nothing new to me," Castiel remarked dryly. "Have you considered your choice?"

"Choice? What choice?"

"To be my squire."

"I don't know what that means."

"My right hand."

"Right hand, to the new God with a capital 'G'? I don't have that kind of mojo, Cas, it's outside my pay grade."

Castiel invaded his personal space, and the smell of sulfur and blood contaminated Dean's nostrils. 

"Is – what is that?" he asked.

"I disposed of some rather problematic demonic forces," Cas said idly. "It's not really your concern at this moment. I want an answer."

Dean was aware that Cas was uncomfortably close to his nearly naked body, and he had to focus hard to respond. "Can't you be more specific about what you want from me?"

Castiel's hands caressed the back of Dean's neck, sending blood to the hunter's nether regions. Normally Dean could hide his visceral reaction, but his boxers didn't leave much to the imagination. 

"You can hide nothing from me, Dean," Cas whispered. "Your dreams are not secret, neither are your physical responses. There is no reason for you to pretend you can hide them anymore. Give yourself over to me. I already have your heart, so your soul, will, and flesh will be easy enough."

"You want me to – to – " Dean started to stutter. He was afraid and aroused at the same time, and he didn't like it. Castiel rubbed the lobe of his ear, then moved his hand down his shoulder. "I – Cas, I – "

Cas kissed him, and Dean pressed his lips back, not really certain how to respond. Castiel could wipe him off the map with little more than a finger before, and now a thought alone could end Dean's entire existence. Yet his body seemed intent on letting Cas take whatever he wanted –

Dean broke away, shivering and insecure, his hard on clearly visible in his boxers. "Cas... I can't..."

"You're refusing me?"

Dean needed something, anything, else to think about, so he focused on Sam. "What about Sam?"

"You are mine, I decide where you are."

"No, I m-mean his w-wall."

"I would gladly give my companion what he asked for."

"You'd f-fix Sam?" Cas ran his hand down Dean's cheek, and the hunter continued, "Cas, I don't know what I'm doing."

The super-angel - or deity, whatever – stared into his eyes. "You are refusing me."

Cas flicked his arm and struck Dean hard across the face. It wasn't enough to break his jaw, but it came pretty close. Dean fell to the floor in agony, his erection becoming painfully hard, and his face aching.

"I would have you as my companion," Cas said. "But I will keep you as my cur."

"Cas, please – "

The former angel wrapped something sturdy around Dean's neck. Humiliation flooded the pit of his stomach when he realized it was a _collar_. Dean never minded a bit of kink – handcuffs, tied to the bed, sure – but he never imagined a collar before. It was black leather and fitted perfectly to him with no clasp. Short of cutting off his head, or cutting through the fabric, nothing could get it off.

Castiel moved his hand, and as if he had a leash latched to the collar, a force yanked Dean up by the neck. Cas circled the hunter, rubbing his fingers down his back and abs. 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"You will not speak unless I give you the right to speak," Cas said. "I took your voice to ensure your cooperation. I hope you realize how much mercy I have given you. A dog doesn't know better than to snarl when it is afraid, and the fear in you, Dean, I can see it."

Suddenly the former angel was on the bed, sitting, and the collar propelled Dean to him.

"Sit," Cas ordered.

Unsure how to react, Dean straddled the angel's lap and sat back on Cas's knees.

"See? It's much easier when you do what your instincts tell you, isn't it?" Cas said, stroking the outside of Dean's thighs. "You can lie to yourself about what you want, but there's no reason. We both know now, and I wouldn't let you continue in your ignorance. Do as I instruct, and I will heal Sam tonight."

Dean's underwear was wet from precome, and he hated himself. His brain was clearly endorphin-drunk, ready to obey Cas's every commandment, but this wasn't love play. Cas wasn't _playing_ a dominatrix, he was one.

"I can be a good master to a cur," Cas said, the hint of impatience in his voice. "I would rather have a companion, but – " he snapped the collar, eliciting an unintentional whimper from Dean.

"What do you want Dean?" 

"Sam – heal – "

"No," Cas said, and the tone of authority was strong in his voice. "I mean you. Tell me what you want."

"P-please, p-p-please... touch," Dean managed to say.

"I'm already touching you," Cas said. "Be more specific."

Castiel wasn't just going to collar and toy with him, he was going to make Dean _beg_. Every ounce of his will marshaled its fragmented power to resist.

Slap! Cas clapped his hand across Dean's barely-clothed ass. The spank jerked him forward and caused him to place his hands on the former angel's shoulders for support. His will dissipated all over again. 

"That's better," Cas said. "Now, tell me."

"Please touch me, Cas, touch my – my – dick, please."

Castiel's face pulled into a wicked smile. Dean's boxers disappeared, and his hand clasped the base of Dean's shaft. The touch was warm and slick, and Dean moaned helplessly at the initial contact.

The first strokes were slow, agonizingly slow, but when he tried to jerk his hips forward, Cas used his other hand to stop him.

"I know what you _need_ and will decide when and how to give it to you. You will remain still until ordered otherwise. Do you understand?"

Dean panted hard and swallowed desperately, his body aching for more. "Y-yes, p-please, Cas – ooohhh..."

The hunter wanted to stop the obscene noises from coming out of his mouth, but he couldn't. His voice could make sound, but it couldn't form words, which he imagined was part of Cas's mojo. 

Every time he tried to focus on something else, his dreams came to the surface. Castiel showing up in a motel room, in the dark, and rolled Dean onto his stomach for a long, slow fuck. Castiel ordering him to put his hands on the headboard while he screwed his brains out. Castiel bending Dean over a low coffee table – 

"Your dreams are not secret from me, Dean," Cas said, his voice pseudo-sweet and patronizing. "You remained loyal to me when your family did not. You defended me, so you will be rewarded. Even being my pet will be better for you than you could possibly imagine."

The sounds issuing from Dean's mouth enticed Castiel to do more with his pet in this first session, but he resisted. He needed to break in his cur before he could get what he wanted. The new level of desire merely forced Castiel to expedite his schedule.

"Tell me you will be mine," Cas ordered.

"I'm – yours, all yours," Dean panted.

"Swear your obedience."

It took longer this time, mostly because Dean's pants punctuated a desperate whine in the back of his throat. "I – I swear."

Cas released his grip on Dean's hips, forcing him to control his body from thrusting, which became increasingly difficult with the former angel's grip rotating and tightening around his cock.

The reason became clear when Dean felt the other hand grab his ass, one finger slowly slipping down his crack to his hole. It was moist, not quite like lube, be something similar to it, and Cas began to rim him, furiously.

Dean couldn't think anymore. He didn't understand how he hadn't come all over Cas at already; his sexual dreams always required him jerking off to indulgent memories but that never took more than five minutes. Maybe –

A finger pushed in, hard and demanding, causing Dean to buck up. 

"You can move your hips now," Cas said, swirling his finger inside of Dean like a frigging spinning top. "You can move all you want."

Dean's hands had been plastered to the former angel's shoulders all this time, but before he had a chance to let go, the finger jabbed inside him again, causing him to jolt forward and slump his head on Cas's shoulder. 

A second finger burned, yet it caused him to moan like an elephant in labor. His hips jolted down, trying to get Cas's fingers deeper inside, but then they jolted up, trying to fuck into his other hand. It was involuntary in every meaning of the word, as his nerves became sensitive to every molecule in the room.

"You have been well-behaved," Cas said, as if whispering 'I love you' for the first time. "You are mine."

"I am-m-m-m, yours!" Dean squeaked out, undignified. 

"That's right," Cas replied. "You will do what I say, not for my favor but because your heart is mine."

This caused another muffled squeak from Dean.

The third finger caused Dean to scream, but he couldn't say anything. Every thought in his head wanted to shout Castiel's name from the rooftops. 

"You want to scream my name," Cas said. "You want to call out the name of your Lord and Master."

Dean's helpless moan brought a new smile to the angel's face. "Very well, _speak_."

"C-cas!" Dean panted. "Cas!" he repeated the name over and over, each stroke and thrust eliciting a new one. Finally, he cried, "Castiel!" 

He came in spurts and fits, and Cas milked out the orgasm, his fingers rubbing and hand stroking until Dean began to soften. Dean's body collapsed onto Castiel, who had remained still and fully clothed for the duration of the encounter. The angel stroked down his back and thighs.

"I will fix your brother as promised," the angel said. 

"Cas..." Dean managed, but his body felt drained and his voice wasn't cooperating.

"You will stay in this room and not engage in any contact with anyone else. You will eat what I give you and wait for me. If Bobby calls you back, you may answer, but you will not call him. You will sleep. Then you will care for your body, because your flesh is no longer yours, but my treasure. You will wash, groom, and exercise while you wait for me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Dean panted, still coming down from his high.

"Make no attempt to remove the collar," Castiel instructed, snapping it as a reminder. "There is a manual on the table that explains the care and keeping of it, and you will follow it to the letter. For this collar is now your most prized possession, as it indicates that you are my possession."

"Y-yes, Cas. I will."

Satisfied that Dean would comply, Cas laid him out on the bed and vanished any of the fluids from their bodies and the surrounding areas. It felt almost loving to Dean, except that the collar restrained him to the bed.

"Don't be concerned," Castiel said. "I would not jeopardize the health of my newest treasure. It will relinquish it's grip when your bladder or bowels require it. Ah, and..." Cas materialized a glass of water at Dean's bedside table.

Then he vanished.

As Dean came down from his high, he realized what had just happened. Maybe Dean fantasized about the angel, even considered jumping his bones a few times, but this wasn't Castiel engaging him in sexual play. This was Cas _claim_ on the Winchester. Cas was right about already being given Dean's heart, but he had _taken_ Dean's body. At first, the idea did not bother him at all.

Then it occurred to him. He wasn't Casitel's cur; he was his painted whore.

And with that thought rising to the surface, he fell asleep.

 

Castiel was no fool. His inability to reconcile the references the foolish humans in his care made to human culture seemed to convince them that he was innocent or naive. He was neither, and now he had astute understanding and absolute power. Dean might resist his role at first, but Cas knew his inner thoughts. Dean loved Cas and would cling to him in vain attempts to return him to his former state. By the time he realized such efforts to be futile, his connection with the Castiel would be impossibly strong. Hopefully, by then, Dean would understand his place as his squire and companion, but if not, the hunter would remain his cur. He always wanted a pet, after all.

His plans for Sam Winchester never included rebuilding the wall. Death's perception of the human soul limited his abilities, as he certainly had the ability to do what Castiel was prepared to do.

First, the new deity rose to Heaven. He hadn't bothered much with the angels, only sending out orders for the fighting to stop. Obviously, it hadn't. Gideon, Raphael's right hand, destroyed Hester, one of Castiel's favorites, just as the deity ascended into the Garden. At the very least, Gideon had exceptional timing.

Cas snapped his fingers, and Hester's broken vessel restored and her Grace returned. He immobilized Gideon, forcing him to watch as Hester reanimated. 

"Castiel?" she asked, disoriented by her resurrection.

"You died to defend me, so I raised you up," he said. She dropped to her knees and kissed his hands in thanks. "This is not the only fight occurring in Heaven. You will warn the others that the punishment for disobeying me will be worse than death," he said patiently. "Go!"

Hester teleported and spread the word quickly with the help of the cupids. It took a matter of seconds for all eyes to be fixed on Gideon, the ultimate example.

Castiel kept Gideon frozen in place while he waited for the rapt attention of the other angels. When he had it, he dropped the inferior being to his knees in the middle of the Garden.

"You were ordered to stay your hand," Castiel said, his glorious voice booming and echoing. "Yet you attempt to rise against me."

Gideon's defiance was unremarkable to Castiel. He knew that this particular angel well enough to know that Gideon couldn't be spared. He was Raphael's most dutiful bitch, and his vain attempts to avenge the archangel would only lead other angels astray.

"You killed Raphael, that doesn't make you him!" Gideon shouted as he thrust his angel blade into Castiel's heart.

Shock and horror spread throughout the Heavenly Host as Castiel removed the blade. 

"Why would I be something as weak and petty as an archangel?" Castiel asked. "I am the new Authority in Heaven. You will bow to me, obey my orders, or your fate will be worse than death."

"I will never obey you!" Gideon cried, rushing to impale himself on his own blade.

Castiel stopped him with an invisible force, freezing him again. He spoke to the others. "I will use this pathetically lost angel to show you the punishment for disobedience. Watch." 

He removed Gideon's Grace, binding the entity to the vessel and expelling the human soul from the body. Then he snapped his fingers, and the unconscious body of Sam Winchester, alive and whole, appeared next to him, held upright like a marionette.

He took Gideon's head in one and Sam's in the other. A fiery black-and-red contagion passed out of Sam and into Gideon's new human form. The insanity, the memories, the emotional trauma from the cage would certainly cause an angel to lose control, let alone an angel-become-human. Cas imagined dully that Gideon's new human form would be dead in the span of a few weeks at best.

Once the process was finished, Sam Winchester's eyes opened, clear and wide. 

"Cas-Castiel?" he panted. "Where – "

But a new deity's time was too important to waste on the likes of Sam. He waved his hand and sent him back to Bobby's house. Then he waited.

Gideon woke up, screeching like his body was on fire. The horror written across his face, the rigidity of his movements, and the incoherence of his words made Castiel's points quiet clear.

"Hannah," Castiel called to another of Raphael's angels. "You will take Gideon's human form to Earth and check him to a mental care facility."

Hannah obeyed immediately.

"Marcus and Ion," Cas said, selecting from Raphael's soldiers to make his point clear. "You will guard him, ensure nothing befalls him, and heal his body when necessary. I advise you not to attempt to heal his mind. It will be futile and yield nothing but my wrath. This is a just punishment for him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Ion replied.

"Yes, Castiel," said Marcus.

And they followed Hannah.

"Let it be known," Castiel said. "That the punishment for disobedience will not be death, but a loss of Grace. Those who refuse to follow me will never die, but suffer the throes of Hell in a human body."

Silence filled Heaven. 

Castiel began to hand down orders. He started with the simplest. "Joshua, you will return to the Garden and be its caretaker, as you ever had been."

 

Sam woke up, really woke up, on Bobby's living room floor. It was three in the morning, and he had the oddest dream about Castiel. 

It took him several minutes to conclude that it was not, in fact, a dream. The evidence was fairly clear: Sam fell asleep locked in the panic room and hadn't moved out of it by himself. The back of his head bore what could be an extreme case of sunburn, but Sam thought it had something to do with whatever Cas did to him. 

Had he really been in Heaven again? That seemed – impossible.

Sam stood up to find his body weak, thirsty, and aching. Cas had not been careful with him, apparently. Yet, he felt oddly awake and alive. He blinked. He knew he hadn't been well for the last week or so, but he couldn't remember why. It had something to do with his soul, but – what was it? He couldn't even invent a wild idea to explain it; it was as if that part of his brain had been expunged. His last memory was his illness overtaking him as Castiel announced himself the new God. 

"Bobby!" Sam called. "Bobby?"

 

Dean woke up at eight am with no alarm, but he considered the possibility that the collar had done it for him. He wasted no time on thought, though. He rose from bed and went into the kitchen, where a breakfast of fruits, eggs, and oats waited for him. He ate as much of the oats as he could, but it tasted like wet paper to him. He was sure to eat all the eggs and fruit, though.

Then he followed every one of Castiel's instructions, for fear of the former angel revoking his promise to fix Sam. He took care to floss his teeth, causing his gums to bleed from the excess attention. He shaved, showered, and applied lotion, because he certainly hadn't put the extra large bottle of it in the bathroom, which meant Cas put it there and intended for Dean to use it.

There was also a very large bottle of lubricant, but Dean imagined Castiel had other plans for _that_. He stared into the mirror, his insides moving unpleasantly as his inner conflicts curled around him. Under other circumstances, the collar could be considered a very hot dom move by Cas, but that's not what it was. It was an honest sign of enslavement.

But having sex with Castiel for the sake of Sam was hardly a hardship. Had the apocalypse not gotten in the way over and over again, Dean liked to imagine that the two of them would've managed to arrange some kind of physical relationship. So, gawking at his own image, he decided to let Castiel do whatever he'd like – and Dean would _enjoy_ it. Or, in this case, let himself enjoy it.

He left the bathroom and found the manual on how to care for the collar. He wasn't certain if he could follow the instructions, since he couldn't remove it from his neck, and the instructions clearly assumed that the collar was free. This made his decision in the bathroom more difficult to maintain; Cas wanted him to know that he was the former angel's pet. He wanted Dean to struggle to clean this collar, which apparently was to replace the Impala as his most prized possession. The very idea churched anger inside him.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Dean?" Sam said. "Are – Bobby gave me this number. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm more worried about you. How's your head?"

"That's what I'm calling about. A couple of hours ago, I think Cas yanked memories out of me."

"What? Death told me that wasn't possible."

"Well, I – I can't really be sure, but I think he inflicted them on someone else."

"What?"

"I wasn't really aware at the time, but that's the impression I got."

"But you feel fine?" Dean asked. "Hell baggage in check?"

"Dean, I don't have any Hell baggage. I've tried. All I can remember is jumping into the hole with Michael trying to grapple me."

"What about, uh, after you were alive again?"

"Yeah, that's – the thing. I remember being an incredible dick."

"Which time?"

"Dean, don't joke. I killed innocent people that I could've – should've saved – "

"You remember that Arachne case? The one we worked together, I mean. You couldn't remember the one you worked with Samuel."

"That's confusing, because I remember it all now, and – I don't know. But I'm better, okay? That's why I'm calling. Now be honest with me. How are you?"

"I'm good," Dean said. "I mean that. Cas asked me to stay here with him as his – "

"Squire," Sam said. "Bobby told me about that. Dean, do you realize he wants you to be – "

"His right hand," Dean said. "Only he doesn't need one. So I'm more like the sidekick. For comic relief or something."

"Dean, if you did this so he'd heal me – "

"No, no, nothing like that Sammy," Dean said. "He said he'd help you, sure, but – this isn't a demon deal, okay? I mean, he wants my company, not my soul or whatever. So, do me a favor, and don't poke the bear."

"You just said – "

"I did," Dean cut him off. "But I'm okay." Dean forced himself to say the next words as if they were absolute truth. "I'm happy. Confused by the random assortment of non-English languages, but other than that, happy. Now that you're better, there's nothing for me to worry about."

"Are you trying to tell me I'll never see you again?" Sam asked, his expression easily pictured by the sound of his voice.

"No, no," Dean said. "I'm out in BFE... somewhere."

"Germany," Sam offered.

"Really? Okay, Germany," Dean said. "And Cas has plans or something out here. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Sam paused, as if wondering if the conviction Dean's voice was real or not. When he replied, the brightness in his voice said that he believed Dean. "Okay, Dean, talk to you soon."

The line disconnected. Dean swallowed hard. That was more than he could hope for. Cas didn't just fix Sam's wall, which could clearly be used as a weapon against him, but he _removed_ the Hell baggage. If Sam was right about Castiel inflicting the memories on someone else, Dean could only hope the bastard deserved such a punishment. Part of him hoped it was Crowley.

With that, he returned to the bathroom and began to care for the collar, working even as his fingers cramped in resistance. He would make this damn thing look like new everyday, if that's what it took.

 

After he worked out, he waited. He waited so long that he became self-conscious, and he had nothing to distract himself with. He wasn't allowed to call anyone, or talk to anyone, and the television here proved a poor entertainment method, as Dean didn't understand any of the four languages on the screen.

He started to daydream, which led to a recounting of the previous night's orgasm. He remembered the thought, as he drifted off to sleep, that he was a painted whore. Correction, _Castiel's_ painted whore. But, unlike last night, he didn't feel tired or ashamed; instead, his erection came back as he thought about Castiel's hands all over him.

He drew out his masturbation; he had nothing else to do, after all. So he took his time, finally letting himself come after about almost an hour of play. He cleaned up the room and went back to waiting. 

He didn't bother clean himself up, even though he was sweating and disheveled. That was his first mistake.

Castiel appeared around nine at night, steely blue eyes quickly taking in his favorite pet. 

"You promised you would clean yourself," Cas said. 

"I – " Dean began, but then he realized how much of a mess he was. "I did but – "

"I didn't explicitly warn you not to masturbate," Cas commented causally. "And you pleasured yourself to thoughts of me, so you will incur no punishment this time, but you will never do that again."

"Never...masturbate again?" Dean asked. 

"Unless I instruct you to do it or give you permission."

Dean honestly didn't know how to respond to that. Beyond those scary movies that claimed your palms would grow hair and you'd go blind from the activity, he never had anyone tell him not to touch himself in private.

"Cas – I – I jerk off like three times a week," Dean replied honestly.

"More than that," the former angel replied. "I was aware of it every time."

Dean felt profoundly embarrassed. He could admit maybe three times a week was too much, but he was a bachelor with a low life expectancy so he wasn't really concerned.

"Your body is mine," Cas said. "And you will not participate in sexual activity of any variety without my permission."

He didn't mean to do it, but the entire situation was too much for him. In the past two minutes, he learned that Castiel had watched him jerk off _and_ that he was no longer allowed to do it. It wasn't funny, but he laughed anyway.

The collar tightened, and he snapped back into reality.

"I know that Sam called you," Cas said. "And that he told you I healed him. That was my gift to you."

Cas produced a leash – an actual, corporeal leash made of tough leather – that affixed to Dean's collar. He was so shocked he didn't even think of speaking.

"I knew it would come to this," Castiel sighed heavily. "You gave yourself to me, Dean, but you always need punishment to remind you who you belong to."

Dean nodded, but now he couldn't speak. He focused on staying as calm as possible as Cas spoke.

"I didn't want to punish you," Cas whispered. "But this little outburst indicates a much bigger problem. Get on your hands and knees."

Dean was shocked at Cas's stark response, so he hesitated for an instant. The leash threw him onto the bed and tied tightly around the headboard, resulting in the hunter being splayed awkwardly on his back. Castiel flipped him onto his stomach.

"Hands and knees," he repeated dangerously. 

This time, Dean complied immediately. His body had already reacted to Cas's touch and harsh voice. His skin was flushed and his cock had begun to expand.

"I told you I wanted you to be my companion, but if not, I'll make you my cur," Cas said. "You may be confused as to the nature of our relationship, especially with your sexual fantasies. Open your mouth," he ordered.

Dean dropped his jaw and a piece of tough leather that matched the leash, wrapped around his head. Whatever it was was fit with a bit – it was a bridle-style gag. Dean's heart raced, the combination of sexual arousal and fear contributing equally. Suddenly, the only items he wore included the collar, its leash, and the gag. He whimpered against the bit in his mouth.

Cas leaned over and whispered into Dean's ear. "There are no safe words here, Dean. You will accept your punishment without resentment, and if you wish to avoid this again, then I advise you to learn your place."

His body was confused – desire and fear completely conflated.

"This is my flesh, you gave it to me," Castiel continued, stroking down Dean's flank and then his back. "Since this is your first offense, I will have mercy on you. Next time you will not be so lucky."

Dean didn't know what was happening, but suddenly slickness coated his rim. A finger pushed hard into him, and he tried to yell but the gag stopped him. His breath hitched as Cas pushed another finger inside of him with almost no preparation. The night before, his fingers stretched him, relaxed the muscles, but whatever mojo Cas used for that wasn't on right now. Instead, Dean felt two invasive fingers stretching him open, burning and chaffing. His noises made Castiel stop. 

Without removing his fingers, he leaned in to whisper, "You will accept your punishment because it is lenient and just. Blink twice if you understand."

Dean blinked twice.

"If you make me do this again, Dean, if you make me punish you again, there will be no merciful preparation. Blink twice if you understand."

Dean blinked twice, and a tear escaped his eye. He did everything he could to keep quiet as Cas went back to working him open, his harsh blunt nails pushing into his body, causing him to ache and burn. He hadn't seen Castiel's cock before, but one thing he knew: he didn't want it inside of himself without lube.

The third finger made Dean whine, but Castiel only smiled. His reprimand was working, and with any luck, he'd never have to do this again. Still, this lesson needed to stick, so he pushed all three fingers down, hard, purposely missing Dean's prostate. Even with all the pain, Dean erection remained full and red. 

Cas used his knees to spread Dean's legs out. Clapping his hands on either side of the hunter's hips, he pushed in slowly, stretching his insides and yanking more painful cries from Dean. He would never forget this. He would never make this mistake again.

He pulled almost entirely out and waited a moment before thrusting back in. Over and over again. Dean yelped every time. Cas purposely avoided his prostate; it would only confuse Dean to give him pleasure right now. His thrusts increased in intensity, making Dean's insides burn and his thighs shake. It took only five minutes for the former angel to spurt inside him.

Cas pulled out with a wet, sloppy noise and tilted Dean's hips forward so he could look at his asshole. He blew on it, causing Dean to writhe. Dean panted hard, his brain not quite caught up with recent events. His focus was on the pain in his ass, his back, his core. He almost didn't notice as Cas repositioned himself, his hard-on rebounding at the speed of light.

This time the burning wasn't so bad; the lubricant and Cas's previous come made the penetration easier on Dean. But the thrusts were harder, faster, more brutal. Again Cas came, pulled out for a few seconds, and repositioned himself. Dean was at his wit's end, ready to do anything, anything Cas wanted –

"This punishment is for your own good," Cas said, as if answering Dean's thoughts. "You will learn your place."

Again, Cas fucked him hard and fast, his hands bruising Dean's hips and his cock nearly impaling him. He gave Dean a few minutes of rest after the fourth time, stroking his back and stomach, purposely avoiding his cock, which was leaking precome and hurting. 

"You have taken your punishment well," Cas said as his semen dripped out onto Dean's thighs. "I really shouldn't, but I will reward you. Assuming you have learned your lesson. Blink three times if you have."

Dean blinked three times, like the good little bitch he was.

Cas's slick fingers pushed back in, but this time the lube was heavy and thick and warmed his insides. After about a minute, Cas repositioned himself again, pulling Dean back onto his cock, eliciting mewing sounds from the gagged hunter.

He started slow with even, low thrusts. He hit Dean's prostate, causing him to jerk forward and down. Cas quickened, thrusting hard down, striking at that sweet spot and dragging the moans out of Dean's aching body. Almost as a second thought, Cas rubbed his thumb across Dean's neglected dick before wrapping his fingers around it, the light friction drawing out the hunter's desperation. He didn't care that his ass felt like it was ripped and bleeding; he didn't care that his pubic bone was bruised or that his pelvis was sore. All he wanted was for Cas to fuck him forever.

Dean came, finally and gloriously, but he couldn't vocalize his pleasure over the gag. Cas continued to rut into the hunter, hard and thick and dangerous. Dean leaned down on his arms, lifting his ass into the air, and winning a triumphant moan from Cas, who bucked even more cruelly into him. Finally, Cas came. His orgasm continued for several minutes, and he pumped into Dean's throbbing, aching hole as his semen spilled out between them.

Cas pulled out and examined his work. 

"You will stay like this until I give you permission to move."

Dean's brain had shut down – some kind of trauma bullshit, maybe? – but his body wouldn't stop screaming. His legs hurt, his back hurt, even his arms hurt from all the pressure. But none of that distracted him from the excruciating soreness of his well-fucked hole and hips. 

Castiel had stepped back, as if to admire the mess that was once Dean Winchester, on all fours, with fluids dripping out of, well, everywhere. Dean didn't know how long he stayed there, humiliated and vulnerable, but he guessed it was around half an hour.

The gag disappeared along with the leash, but Dean didn't dare move.

Cas stroked Dean's hair as he spoke. "The first thing you will do is clean yourself up. I have healed any injuries that have the possibility of infection. But the soreness and the pain you will bare as part of your punishment. You will do as you did yesterday – care for your body, your collar, and eat what is given to you. You will not touch yourself without permission. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-y-es," Dean said quietly.

"Then you are allowed to move," Cas said. "But you will not call anyone or engage in contact with anyone else. You will stay in this room."

"Yes," Dean pined again.

Castiel disappeared, leaving Dean to his own devices. When Cas was in the room, he focused on his pain to help hold back his resentment and anger and humiliation. He would've gladly undergone and kind of pain to save his brother; after all, he had spent forty years in Hell for Sam. 

But this wasn't about the punishment, or the collar, or the words spoken to him. It was that all this had come from _Cas_ , whatever he was now. Alastair favored physical torture to mind games, but even when he saw Sam, or his dad, or his mother, torturing his soul on the rack, the dimmest parts of himself knew that they were just illusions. The people he loved weren't the ones tearing him apart. 

He stopped himself. Apart from ferocious physical pain, Dean. Winchester. Did. Not. Cry. He invested his energy in getting out of the bed. It took him several minutes to totter into the bathroom, his back and ass slowing his step considerably.

He grabbed at the countertop in the bathroom to prop himself up. He had planned to wash before looking into the mirror at all, but the room was too small to really avoid his reflection. 

The bit had left marks on either side of his mouth, and the strap that held the gag also left pressure lines. His arms were red and bruised from holding himself up against Castiel's ruthless "punishment." As if to add insult to injury, as soon as he thought of Castiel spurting inside him, a remnant of Cas's – his master's – semen began to slip out of his ass and down his leg. He didn't look very hard, but he was certain he saw blood there, too.

No. Dean. Winchester. Did. Not. Cry. He would not bawl. He would wash himself and try to sleep. And he would do whatever Cas wanted to avoid another reprisal from his master.

Dean didn't know it, but it was this moment, as he asserted his submission to Castiel to himself in spite of what he did to him, that his will cracked open just enough for a tendril of the collar's influence to slide in. That's why his mind gradually replaced the words "Castiel" or "his angel" with the words "his master." As he drew his bath, he didn't wonder what Cas would want next; no, he wondered what his lord would demand from him.

It didn't occur to him that this thought was off or alien in any way. In fact, as he slid his abused body into the warm comfort of the water, he realized how easy it was to see Castiel as his master, as the one to give him orders.

Dean soaked in the bath, since it was the only thing he could think would soothe all his aches. His humiliation ebbed away in the warm bath water. He felt better afterward, at the very least he was free of bodily fluids spontaneously dripping out of him.

As he brushed his teeth, he felt guilty about his behavior. Cas had taken care of him, after all. He stopped Raphael, and despite Dean's betrayal, he kept Dean, fed him, saved him. And he couldn't even promise not to masturbate?

By the time he went to bed, he planned on begging for forgiveness, offering his aching body to be beaten and his lips around Castiel's cock - _anything_ for his master. The collar glowed as its tentacles spread wildly throughout Dean's unconscious mind, erupting brilliantly out to his conscious mind, reminding him who he belonged to and lived for – Castiel.

 

Dean remained sore for the next week, but nothing stopped him from providing his master with pleasure. He begged Cas to let the hunter prove his commitment, begged to suck him off, begged for Cas to bend him over the bed. Castiel refused the latter, not willing to subject his precious pet's body to additional injuries unless Dean needed to be punished. So that week, Dean learned how to preform the best blowjob possible, his mind focused on almost nothing else but finding a way to gratify his lord.

He spent two hours everyday caring for his collar, and the Impala became a distant memory for him in just a few short days. When Sam called back at the end of the week, Dean was confused.

"Have you asked if, you know, you can come home?" Sam asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to go home."

"Wait, what? Dean, are you okay?"

"Sam, I'm happy. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"I'm happy you're happy, Dean, but I'm worried about you."

"Sam, I don't expect you to understand, but I do expect you to leave me alone," Dean said as he hung up.

 

Castiel watched as his hunter succumbed to the nature of his position. The collar was the most effective measure against Dean, and in a few months, he would no longer need to wear it. The effects would be permanent.

The former angel obliterated most of the angels in Heaven, and he wiped out most of Crowley's forces. During his destruction of the outposts of Hell, he found another interesting party that he decided would make his own.

The demon Decarabia, who the Winchesters called 'Meg Masters' after the humans she possessed, had been deep in hiding for a long time. She kept her true name to herself on Earth, but she could no longer hide anything from Castiel. He continued to call her Meg, though, for the sake of simplicity. 

Not only did Meg submit to Castiel as master, she did it far more willingly than Dean did. Still, he provided her with her own collar because it looked good on her. He spent his mornings with her and his nights with Dean. Without Heaven or Hell or Purgatory doing much these days, the deity needed to do _something_ with his time.

Three months after collaring Dean Winchester, and two months after Meg, Castiel created a mansion for his home on Earth. He gathered the servants he had – such as doctors for Dean, the chefs, and so on – and his two consorts into the mansion. All the people that were now his flesh would remain under his roof. It allowed the remaining angels to serve and report to Castiel with added efficiency as well.

But that was also when the problems began. The collar fully took Meg's will in four weeks, but Dean still required at least another month. That was his mistake; he brought them to live in the same house before the collar made Dean submit fully unto his authority. Dean hated Meg, and he detested that Castiel even touched her. The collar didn't prevent jealousy, so Dean was left to stew in his envy.

"Your flesh is mine," Cas reminded hm. "Not the other way around."

But the collar consumed Dean's will, and instead of lashing out, his heart broke. He withdrew, following every order but never gaining pleasure beyond orgasm. Depression hung on him like chains, and Dean could not – or would not – overcome it.

All his enemies were gone, and the world was rid of Eve's denizens. The only remaining enemy roosted inside his favorite pet, and the collar made it stick. There was no way to put Dean back together again without erasing everything he was, so Castiel reversed time, prepared to bend Dean to his will by some other means.


	5. Come with Me, Take Two

"I am your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you."

Castiel learned from his mistakes. He waved his hand, and Sam fell asleep. 

"Sammy!" Dean cried as he ran over to his brother. "What did you do to him?" he spat at Castiel.

Another wave of his hand, and Bobby and Sam were alone.

"Balls," Bobby said as he rushed to Sam's aid. He found a pulse. That was something at least.

 

Dean was suddenly in a large room. It could be a motel room, except that the only doors led to a kitchen and a bathroom. No window or hole led to the outside.

"What the hell?"

"I just saved the world from another apocalypse," Cas said, "and repaired your brother's mind. A thank you would be in order."

"Well, gee golly, thanks Cas," Dean said sarcastically. "Where the hell are we?"

"I have plans for you," the former angel replied. "There is food in the kitchen, I may be gone for several hours and – "

A bed appeared. "In case you need rest."

"Cas, what the hell is going on?"

Castiel smiled. This time he wouldn't need a collar. "I am sure you don't believe me about Sam, since you choose to expect the worse. So if you want to watch over him, you can." He tossed Dean a remote. "This will turn it on," Cas said, indicating a projector that hadn't been there before. "Your brother will be unconscious for some time, but he is alive and well. As is Bobby."

"Screw this, I want out."

"You betrayed me for my efforts in protecting you," Cas said, crowding Dean's personal space. "And now you will stay here because I asked you to."

He left, giving Dean no real option but to stay.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed.

He fumbled with the remote and turned the projector on. Bobby and Sam were in another car – obviously the Impala wasn't fairing too well – and Sam was unconscious. Bobby looked deeply unhappy, but Dean sat on the bed and watched. His stomach growled, and his mind throbbed with annoyance. But Dean didn't move. He didn't look away as Bobby tried to wake Sam with smelling salts, or when the old man administered fluids and a banana bag to the still-unconscious Winchester.

He didn't even look away when Bobby started to cry.

"You lis'en to me, Sam Winchester," Bobby said, his voice almost pleading. "You are gonna be alrigh', you understand? You needta git through this for me – and f-for your brother. Cas took him somewhere, but, we both know, that crazy sonova bitch loves him, so... Dean's gotta be okay, Sam. But that's only true if you pull through. No excuses, boy! You understan'? You ain't gonna leave me'n'Dean behind like your daddy did."

The rest of his words became incomprehensible to Dean, who watched and felt his heart snap apart. 

"I am okay, Bobby," Dean said to the wall with Bobby's image, knowing no one could hear him. "You're right, Cas just put me... somewhere. Probably to prevent Crowley or whoever from getting me."

The lie seemed so true to Dean that he believed it.

 

Castiel set a clear example in Heaven. Just like the last time, Gideon received a punishment, which was a removal of Grace then condemnation to Hell. No one question his authority after that.

Cas followed Gideon's newly-made, and newly-condemned, soul. He couldn't be rid of Hell, so he decimated the demons there, reducing the place to howling and haunted souls, and the newest recruit, the once beautiful angel named Gideon, sobbed as Hell tore him apart for the first time. It was so beautiful. 

Almost with regret, the former angel destroyed Meg. He had grown fond of her as a plaything, but she never held a place in his heart like Dean did. He didn't need her, not when he took his hunter, so why run the risk of Dean's envy destroying him again.

 

The moment Sam opened his eyes and spoke made Dean's heart leap. His little brother conversed easily with Bobby, expressing concern – of course it was concern, that was a primary aspect of his personality – about the fluids and banana bag connected to his arm.

"You haven't eaten," Cas said, carrying a burger and fries on a plate.

For the first time all day, Dean felt properly hungry.

"Thanks," he said taking the burger. 

Several minutes passed quietly, with little more than the sound Bobby's and Sam's movements over the screen and Dean's eating.

"I'm... sorry for doubting you, Cas," Dean said. "You were right, you stopped Raphael, but – you don't need the souls anymore."

"You can leave," Cas replied. "I had to keep you here while I corralled all the demons back to Hell and broke up the fighting among the angels. You still may be a target. If you need my help, just call to me."

"That's it?" Dean asked. "Cas – we – "

"My concern over your safety is no longer strong enough for me to keep you here," Cas cut Dean off. "You don't want to be here."

"No, this is that green room thing all over again. It's creepy and weird, but, that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"What about _us_?" Dean asked.

"You called me your brother, then trapped me in Holy Oil. Then Sam stabbed me in the back, all because you presumed I could not handle the likes of Crowley. I wish I could tell you that our friendship still existed, but all I can say is that I would prefer you to come to no harm. So call on me when you need me."

Castiel vanished. A door appeared in the far wall, and Dean abandoned his burger to leave. He found he wasn't hungry anymore.

 

Dean felt even guiltier when the Impala, repaired and cleaned, was outside the door. He couldn't tell where he was, but Cas must've mojoed a motel room or something, because he was definitely near civilization.

As soon as he was in the car, he called Bobby.

 

As it transpired, Castiel had left him in Nowheresville, Florida. Dean didn't mind that he had a long drive ahead of him; after all, his baby was back and better than before.

He felt a pang of remorse. As he drove, his thoughts constantly came back to Castiel. The look on his face, the betrayal – that wasn't a new God speaking, that was Cas. Whatever freaky thing he said after he exploded Raphael didn't really seem to matter. Clearly his best friend was still in there.

He wound up spending the night in Georgia. He could've gotten farther, but there wasn't a rush or anything. He didn't want to fight with Cas; he wanted to repair the relationship. No, screw that! Dean wanted more.

So the hunter scoped the area for a nice hotel, not some crappy room, and splurged a solid two hundred a night for some big name place.

 

What Dean didn't know – couldn't know – was that Castiel's plan was insidious. The direct approach produced acceptable results, but what would be the point of producing acceptable results when he could have perfect results? Dean's reaction at the demon formerly known as Meg gave Cas the idea. His jealousy and guilt would lay the groundwork for their relationship.

All Castiel needed was to induce a drowning desire, or sort of _heat_ in Dean, the way some animals mated. Since human hormones didn't exist in that capacity, the closest thing the former angel could generate would be a recreation of puberty. Coupled with additional obsession over Castiel – which Dean's guilt was bound to ensure – the desire would drive Dean to consummate their relationship despite his reservations about Castiel's new Authority. 

The collar broke his will, that's why it wasn't effective enough to control him. Dean Winchester's will was most of his personality. Breaking it was not the answer; no, all the newest Authority needed to do was make Dean desperately desire _him_. Then Dean's will would bring him to his knees in front Cas, begging.

The trouble was that Castiel had already taken Dean Winchester, and waiting was more difficult than he thought it would be. He was all-powerful, yet he had to wait for some sniveling human – 

Castiel stopped himself. He already had the world, the last few elements of Eve's children barely lingering. A little patience and he would have his companion.

 

"Cas, if you got a spare second," Dean said to the room's ceiling. "I wanna talk to you."

Nothing happened. 

Without anything else to do, Dean took a shower. His drive might've been short, but his body was sore and his brain was tired. Again, his thoughts drifted back to Castiel, and this time his cock responded. He stroked himself, imagining Cas's hands all over him – 

"Damn," Dean said as he came. 

After the shower, his arousal came back, and nothing he thought of seemed to help. His fantasies about women hadn't worked since he left Lisa, so he turned to his erotic dreams. Sure, sometimes someone would walk in on him and Cas, usually his little brother, who would not only shriek but was also almost always cross-dressed in that particular recurring dream. And sometimes the dream ended with Raphael trying to kill them both during their orgasms, but beyond that, they were fantastic. 

Dean didn't touch himself, not yet -

Castiel appeared, jolting Dean.

"Cas, Jesus!" he yelled. 

"You called for me."

"Yeah, hours ago. Warn a guy," Dean said, catching his breath. "You are... Cas, right?"

"As opposed to who?"

"God."

Castiel smiled. "It's me Dean," he hedged. "You called."

Dean considered this a moment, but he was distracted by the fact that he had just spent hours fantasizing about the guy giving him a blowjob before screwing his brains out -

"Did you need assistance?"

'Assistance' wasn't exactly the word that Dean would've chosen. He felt like he'd been dropped kicked back to puberty, and not the good part of puberty, either. Castiel waited as Dean's hormones spiraled quickly out of control. The hunter's guilt was ready-made to push him over the edge, and his skepticism over Cas's new Authority withered away.

"If you don't need my help – " Cas began.

"No, that's – we should talk."

"You asked me here to talk?"

"Yeah."

Cas produced the most soulful look he could muster. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Cas, don't blip out on me!" Dean said, grabbing hold of the angel. 

It was that simple, like a fly captured in a web. Castiel would describe it as a scent, but it's not entirely a smell. Dean's eyes met Castiel's and the combination of his fantasies and proximity to the former angel caused his dick to become painfully hard – and painfully obvious – in just a few seconds.

"Uh – Cas, I – "

"You are sexually aroused," Castiel commented in his normal monotone.

Dean blushed furiously, but he didn't let go of Cas's arm. Slowly, the new Authority rolled Dean into a standing caress, and the hunter's hands desperately searched Castiel's form. Dean led in with his lips, engaging with his tongue and teeth. In his mind, this was all the Winchester's idea to draw the angel into a night of sex and debauchery. The room filled with desperate slurping and quiet noises from Cas to encourage Dean. 

The hunter should have realized, and maybe he did, that his nerves went into overdrive and his blood pumped too hard too quickly for it all to be real. If he noticed, Dean didn't seem to mind. He didn't mind when Castiel sucked on him till he came, nor when he flipped the hunter over and topped him slowly for hours. His vocalizations indicated he was quite enjoying himself. 

After they were spent, Cas's eyes devoured Dean's body. Sexual intercourse would lead to more sexual fantasies, which would easily cause Dean to call on the former angel's "services" again, and soon. Castiel didn't want to wait too long to take his rightful offering from the flesh of Dean Winchester again.

 

After another intoxicating session of sex, vows, and supernatural amplitude, Dean slept under the watchful eye of Castiel. The former angel set about the second part of his plan, modifying the hypothalamus and pituitary gland. Dean's adrenal system was in peak health, so Cas added a few minor tweaks.

Castiel needed to ensure that the effects of something like the collar wouldn't phase Dean's new, for lack of a better word, wiring. Adjusting the neuro-hormonal balance of the human body was delicate, but not terribly difficult to execute. Inducing an endorphin-driving love in Dean would put him off balance, ensuring the start of Dean's emotional and, more importantly, sexual dependency on Castiel.

He wondered why he wasted time on the likes of the collar, which was steeped in magic, when he could've turned to pharmaceuticals. Admittedly, there was no "love drug" Cas could use, but from the manufacture of everything from eczema treatments to antipsychotics, Cas concocted a clever mechanism to induce a gradual change in Dean's personality. A reduction of paranoia and a drastic modification to the chemical reactions linked to affection would make the hunter placid and compliant.

Admittedly, Cas begrudged the timetable, which would take at least a month to set in full motion and more than that to take full effect. He'd waited long enough to have his companion, but he tempered himself. Some things were worth waiting for.

 

About a week after Dean returned to South Dakota, Sam confronted him.

"You've been acting like a perpetual chick flick," Sam accused. 

"Screw you!"

"You daydream all the time," Sam pointed out. "So why not spill?"

"Spill? On what?"

"Castiel is out there, playing God. You go from worrying about him and trying to stop him, to being pretty damn chill, like, overnight."

"It's not like the dude's out killing people," Dean said. "Maybe we were wrong. Maybe he can handle it."

"And if the monster souls start to drive him over the edge?"

"Shut up, Dr. Phil."

"Dean, that doesn't even make any sense."

"What do you want from me?"

"Did it ever occur to you that, maybe Cas did something to you?"

"You mean besides save my life?"

"Like doping you."

"Doping me? Like a drug?"

"Yeah."

"I think I'd notice."

"I've noticed."

"Am I drooling? Blacking out? Giggling?" Dean quipped. "No? Guess I'm not drugged."

"Those are not symptoms of being drugged!" Sam said indignantly. 

"Okay, so what is wrong with me, Sammy?"

"You're not concerned about Cas."

"I made the mistake of not trusting him before. I'm not willing to do it again. He's got it covered."

Sam stormed out, but they were far from the end of the fight. The same argument recurred for several days, resulting in the subsequent kidnapping and imprisonment of Dean by Bobby and Sam.

Castiel wasn't worried. After all, that was the brilliance of his plan; it resorted to simple biochemistry of the body. Bobby and Sam could use hex bags or spell work all they'd like, but apart from a medical doctor who had a full history of Dean's physiological state before Castiel's modifications – and indeed, there was no living doctor with such – nothing could identify any underlying change or issue. Supernatural efforts that produced physical changes. Seamless. 

Dean remained in captivity for over a week. Each passing day infuriated Cas. The hunter knew that he could call for help, and he'd come to his rescue. But he didn't. Dean continued to pine after Cas but didn't feel the urge to close the distance between them. His desire to be with Castiel was not strong enough to compel him to fight for his freedom.

On the tenth day of Dean's imprisonment, Cas's lust got the better of him. He hadn't had any physical interaction with Dean in almost eleven days, and his patience was worn thin already by the imposed threshold. 

He arrived and put both Sam and Bobby to sleep, and he went straight to Dean.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked.

"Cas, why are you here?" Dean asked from behind the bars of his 'room.'

"You're locked in a cage, Dean. That's why I came."

"You should go," Dean said. 

"Not without you."

Dean smiled. "They think you did something to me. That it just needs to be flushed out of my system."

"I don't care about their reasons," Cas said, breaking the bars.

"Cas, listen, I'm waiting them out. They keep me in here long enough, they'll realize you haven't done anything."

Cas didn't listen because he didn't care. He grabbed Dean and teleported, taking him to Russia. 

"Cas, what the hell?" Dean snarled. "Take me back."

"I thought you'd want to be with me."

"I do, Cas. Weren't you listening? I was waiting them out. It won't be much longer."

"I'm tired of waiting!" Cas dragged the hunter into a long, sloppy kiss. 

Dean broke it off with a smile. "Down boy," he said. "Just, take me back."

"No."

"What?"

"I'm tired of waiting," the former angel repeated.

"I heard you," Dean said. "But this is a little too co-dependent for me. So drop me back home, huh?"

Castiel abandoned speaking as a mode of communication and moved onto the physical element. The hormones in Dean roared, and for the first thirty minutes or so, things went well. Dean suckled at Cas's lips, down his neck, his collarbone. He let himself be manhandled, but they hadn't seen each other in over a week. They both came hard and fast, and as soon as it was over, Dean began to insist on returning to his captivity.

"Cas, com'on, it's Sam and Bobby."

"They should respect your wishes."

"They will."

"I won't return you there."

"Then I'll hitch hike."

"We're in Russia."

"Russia?"

"You cannot hitch hike."

"Cas, come on – "

"NO!" Cas finally lost his temper. "You will stay here with me."

Before Dean could protest, Cas was on him, stripping him naked with the wave of his hand. Even with his hormones out of control, Dean resisted. 

"Cut it out!" Dean said. "Seriously, Cas, stop, you're – "

Cas took his voice away, and Dean stared into two ice-blue eyes that did _not_ belong to his Cas. The hormone modification kept Dean hard and his body ripe, but his fear fought for every inch.

Gently, Cas softened his composure and returned to the kissing, returning Dean's voice to allow him to whimper and whisper. Everything was going so well as Cas eased Dean onto the bed, petting him and staring into his eyes. Castiel made sure his temper was in check, so his blue eyes remained clear and honest, as Dean expected them to be. The hunter relaxed.

It was just a blink of the eye, a slant of light, Dean thought to himself. He saw Castiel's alter ego for a flickering second during a moment of sexual frustration. Could he really blame the guy? Dean was a great lay, and they hadn't seen each other in days. His cock twitched as Cas layered him with kisses.

It was Sam's nagging voice that snapped him out of it. "What if Cas did something to you? Doped you?" Sam had asked. 

"Stop," Dean said. "Cas, com'on, stop – " But he didn't. "I mean it, Cas, what's – "

Cas captured the hunter's lips in a kiss to shut him up. As he pulled away he said, "I don't want to stop, Dean."

"Cas – " Dean panted as Cas grinded their erections together. "Stop! STOP IT!"

Cas's patience had frayed away twenty minutes ago, and Dean's hormones had a strong affect on Cas, which he hadn't anticipated. "I need you Dean. I need to be inside of you right now."

"No – no – stop – "

Cas took Dean's voice away again. He had been tolerant enough, and by his accounting, Dean should be a wrecked mess begging for the new Authority to claim him. So he held the hunter down as he continued to kiss and lick, to suck and bite, and worked opened his hole just like he had before.

Dean was still struggling against his master, though, and he needed to submit. So Cas splayed the hunter out, his hands on his shoulders to force Dean to look into his eyes. Dean's panic was clear as his eyes remained, fixed and unblinking, on the man above him. 

Dean saw every angry etch, the steely blue, and the cold authority in Castiel. Whatever monster wore his partner's face right now – it wasn't _Cas_. He struggled, hard, but fruitlessly. 

"You are mine, Dean, and I need you, right now," Cas crooned, trying to soften his features, but only becoming more horrific to Dean. 

The fear in Dean's eyes might've been a turn on if this was a punishment, but Cas found it oddly annoying right now. Clearly the night wasn't going as planned, so he flipped Dean over onto his stomach and held him down into the bed, given him a little room for stroking his cock. 

Dean thrashed under Castiel the entire time, but a mere human, even his favorite human, was no match for the new Authority. The desperate movement added a great deal to the friction, which Cas found highly enjoyable; thus, he restrained Dean facedown and satisfied himself inside of his pet, half-brutally, half-lovingly as his frustrations and desires became indistinguishable from one another.

"You are _mine_ ," Cas growled into his whimpering pet's ear. "And you will not stray. You will stay and serve me."

His knees left black-and-blue marks on Dean's inner thighs and his hands left deep gores and bruised across Dean's back, neck, and sides. Castiel continued until Dean stopped fighting him, gasping (and possibly sobbing) into the cheap motel pillow.

 

Later that night, Dean tried to escape out the bathroom window. This resulted in Cas chaining him in a dungeon. For three weeks, the former angel conditioned Dean with every methodology he could find, bent on finishing his work. But the rape was too much for Dean; his nightmares of Cas forcing himself inside were more potent than those the hunter had of his forty years in Hell. Hormones alone wouldn't fix it.

Castiel tried to remove and modify Dean's memory, but it resulted in a kind of vacancy in the hunter's eyes. He guessed it had something to do with traumatic memories being linked neurologically, but he wasn't sure. The entire exercise left him frustrated and angry. Like a child at the end of a cereal box, he wanted his damn prize.

 

'The trouble with Chaos Theory,' Cas considered, 'is that it applies only to _determinate_ systems. Initial conditions be damned in systems that are chaotic in the traditional meaning of the word. That is, without order.'

It was funny to Castiel how becoming omnipotent cleared his thoughts. If only he were _omniscient_ , then his choices would be so much easier. Navigating Dean Winchester's emotional landscape from the outside was like walking a minefield. One never knew when a devastating explosion would occur until it was too late.

He knew this Dean wouldn't do as a permanent companion, but he also realized that waiting for Dean to give himself over bodily to Cas had been the most difficult part. So he continued to spend his lust on this broken Dean, the one he had chained in a basement so he wouldn't injure himself. At the very least, he could enjoy his failed project for a few more days. The sexual release with his pet quivering beneath him became more and more satisfying to the new Authority - 

But again, why settle for adequate when he could have exactly what he wanted? So the new Authority, satiated and ready, rewound time again.


	6. Come with Me, Take Three

"I am your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you."

Sam's desperation pined out of him, and it frayed Castiel's already splitting nerves. So he waved his hand, and the younger Winchester fell unconscious.

"Sammy!" Dean cried as he ran to his brother and knelt over him. Dean turned to Castiel and asked, "What did you do to him?"

"You didn't stand down," Cas said idly, the monotone in his voice clear and steady. "But I have fixed Sam anyway. Goodbye, Dean."

Castiel vanished.

"Balls!" cursed Bobby.

 

Dean and Bobby wrangled Sam's body into a stolen car. They'd have to come back for the Impala later; it was in no condition to drive. 

"What the hell jus' happened?" Bobby asked. 

"I wish I knew."

Dean drove for about an hour before Bobby suggested they switch cars. After all, Sam had stolen the one they were driving, and given the state of mind he was in at the time, they couldn't really trust that he covered his tracks all that well. 

"Okay, how about we ditch the car, I'll head back for the Impala with a rental or something, and you take Sam back to the Panic Room."

"Cas said he fixed him," Bobby said. 

"Yeah but Death warned Sam not to scratch at the wall because whatever came through would stick, so even with it fixed... he might not be good, Bobby. It'd be better for him to wake up somewhere he knew. And – somewhere we can lock him in, if we have to."

"Okay, not arguin'," Bobby said. "We gonna talk abou' it?"

"What?"

"Nah, it's nothin'. Just, you know, Cas turnin' into God and whatnot."

"We gotta deal with what's in front of us, Bobby," Dean evaded as he left the car. "I'll be back no later than tomorrow. Okay?"

"Righ'," Bobby replied tritely. "I guess we'll jus' ignore it then."

Dean didn't respond. He found his way to a local toeing and hauling place and rented a vehicle. He had the demon knife with him, in case any of Crowley's minions showed up, but he managed to retrieve the Impala with little more than a quick lie to the police.

The Impala gave Dean three days of excess travel to get back to Singer's Lot, which gave him three days of reprieve from the conversations he didn't want to have about Cas and Sam.

Sam woke up the day after Dean returned. He was disoriented and couldn't remember anything about the dungeon or Cas declaring himself God. But he also couldn't remember anything about Hell, so Dean counted it as a win. 

"So, what's been going on since I've been out?" Sam asked casually over his third helping of potatoes. 

"Uh, nothing," Dean said.

"Did you kill Crowley?" Sam asked. "What happened to Cas?"

Dean's stomach dropped at the mention of the name, and his mouth went very dry. So Bobby was the one that spoke.

"He's, uh, out – " Bobby began. "He said he was God and disappeared."

Sam's potatoes dropped from his mouth. As he struggled to clean himself, he asked, "You mean like – _God_ , God?" 

"Yeah," Dean huffed. "He fixed your head and split."

"That's it?"

"After he exploded Raphael," Dean added. "And let Crowley escape."

"So..." Sam said. "What does that mean?"

"Means we've gotta bigger problem on our hands than Crowley at the moment," Bobby pointed out.

"Has he been...doing things?" Sam asked, the confusion annoyingly palpable on his face.

"Hard to tell," Bobby started. "We got a lotta crap comin' in from other hunters. Definite stuff, like a surprise meteor shower with dozens of amnesiac John and Jane Does appearing in a stretch of plains land."

"Fallen angels?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Bobby replied. "O' course, the bigger issue is that all those angels had vessels with real human identities – "

"It'll screw with a lot of crap for the next couple of months," Dean cut Bobby off. "And one of the hunters that called Bobby said the angel remembered he was an angel, but he had no powers. None. Nada. Zip."

"So, Cas yanked out their – Grace or something?" Sam asked.

"Must've."

"Woah," was all Sam could think to say.

"There's bin a lotta other stuff, but hard to tell if it's Cas or jus' ever'thin' hittin' the fan," Bobby said. "That bein' said, we've got hundreds of reports of bodies. Eyes burned out of their heads, insides liquefied."

"Isn't that – angels killing demons?" Sam asked.

"Or monsters," Dean added. "It's never just the one body, either. Three or four, a dozen. A couple of them were like mass graves."

"Okay, so," Sam said, unsure of how to proceed. "I mean, we're talking about dead monsters an demons, so – why do you guys look so glum?"

"Because the dude is off the reservation!" Dean said more loudly that he intended. "Wiping out all monsters? I'm all for it. But a new god, with a capital 'G'? That's just – "

Dean didn't finish his sentence, and he didn't have to. Bobby and Sam never spoke openly about it, but both of them knew that his relationship with Castiel was tremendously important to him, even if he would never say that out loud. They also knew that the angel dying would tear Dean's world apart, but losing him to a megalomaniac power trip? That could very well kill him.

"Speakin' of," Bobby began with trepidation, "Angela, a hunter out East, called me before we sat down. She was lookin' into a few sketchy suicides, and she tol' me about this reporter she ran into."

"Cut to the chase, Bobby," Dean said rudely.

"Reporter said a man in a trench coat demanded she publish an article she scrapped. 'Parently, she tossed the damn thing 'causa _death threats_ , but this guy said God was on'er side and she needed to go ahead with it."

"What was she writing about?" Sam asked.

"That's your question?" Dean shot at his brother incredulously.

Before the bickering began, Bobby started in, "An expose on hate groups and crimes. One o' her features included revealing the names Ku Klux Klan members."

"So Cas wants a reporter to spill the beans on some bigots?" Dean asked. "I thought dead people were involved."

"Sketchy suicides," Bobby confirmed. 

"Any chance that these suicides were members of the KKK?" Sam asked, glaring daggers at Dean.

"Yep," Bobby said. 

"So, they know they can't stop this woman from publishing, so they kill themselves?" Dean asked.

"Not all of them," Bobby said. "Easily twenty bodies so far. An' it can't be that they're exposed, 'cause the paper hasn't published that yet."

"You – you think Cas is killing _people_?" Sam asked.

Bobby looked guilty, but he didn't say anything.

"We don't know if he's killed anyone. I mean, if he's God, wouldn't he want his wrath to be known, or whatever?" Dean asked.

"Actually, I know fer a fact he has killed people," Bobby said quietly. 

If any of them still had an appetite, it disappeared at that very moment.

"What're you talking about? You never said – "

"'Cause I wasn' sure and when I was I thought you'd take the news badly, so I waited fer Sam to get better – "

"Damn it, Bobby!" Dean said. "You can't keep shit from me!"

"You wanna yell, or you wanna listen?" Bobby asked.

Dean backed down, but his eyes glinted with menace and his body language said he was ready to lash out with his handgun.

"Right, well. Foun' what kin only be described as plague-related deaths. Death by locusts and fly swarms, boil asphyxiation, rare livestock disease i' the middle of Chicago, gnats and lice, 'accidental' deaths in the middle of a blackout, even frogs."

"Bobby," Dean said when he finished. "That is the most random-ass crap I've heard. You're assuming they're connected?"

"Lamb's blood was smeared over their bodies, and the same message was writt'n on the wall nearest them: God's Wrath is Always Just. In Latin, so the translation – "

"Why would Cas kill people with plagues, then sign his work?" Sam asked. "I mean, it's gotta be hard to kill someone with frogs. Why not just stab them or do that angel-light blasting thing?"

"Dunno," Bobby said. 

Dean knocked his chair over as he got to his feet. 

"Where're you going?" Sam asked. 

"For a drive!" Dean yelled over his shoulder as he left.

 

Castiel watched as Dean drove aimlessly south. He wondered why he had wasted so much effort to win Dean, but now that he had invested his energies in this endeavor, he planned to finish it. Part of his inner psyche recognized that he should feel ashamed at how he abused the Dean in the last timeline after he locked him in the dungeon. He _acknowledged_ that his conscience didn't consider his actions vile and disgusting, but nothing inside him felt guilt or regret over it. Dean's pleads for freedom, his frantic efforts to escape, and even his suicide attempts yielded nothing but annoyance to Castiel.

Dimly, he remembered that his initial attempt at claiming the hunter was driven by desire and his right as the new Authority. However, he no longer wanted a companion, not like he did before, and he certainly didn't need one. His desire for Dean was very specific and highly sexual; the fact that he had the hunter's heart was irrelevant to him, except that it enabled him to win what he wanted.

His caring for humanity as a whole dwindled, but he still tended to the Earth as Heaven was meant to do. With any luck, Dean would stay away from Bobby Singer's home and be forced to take a motel room somewhere. Then Cas would have his opening.

 

Dean found a motel in the middle of nowhere, Utah after he realized he'd been driving all day. He texted his brother not to worry and crashed miserably on the bed. He tried to sleep, but his brain wouldn't turn off.

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean bellowed. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Do what, exactly?" Castiel asked mildly. 

"Woah, what're you – "

"Doing here?" Cas completed in his generic monotone. "You yelled towards Heaven Dean, and I was in the area. What activities of mine are you concerned about?"

Dean swallowed hard. He wasn't sure if his Cas was still in there, but he must be. Why else would the former angel come to him when he yelled?

"Those plague killings," Dean said. "The ones with wrath of God or whatever written on them. Was that you?"

"Yes."

The answer bowled Dean over, and it took him a moment to continue. "Why? Why would you kill people, Cas?"

"I need not answer to you. You have no authority over me," he replied. "I came here under the mistaken assumption that you wished to apologize."

"You're killing people, Cas! Not demons or monsters, but people! You gotta know that's wrong!"

Castiel barely blinked at Dean's outrage, and he spoke slowly when he replied. "It is not wrong to kill the wicked."

"Wicked?" Dean repeated. "Who qualifies as 'wicked,' Cas? Huh?"

"Members of a crime syndicate selling humans into slavery. Pedophiles. Serial killers. What you would call war criminals. People organizing or designing any element of biochemical warfare."

Dean bit back his retort. For some reason, he assumed Castiel would go after religious creepazoids or something like that.

"Oh," Dean said, not sure how to respond. He looked at his own feet for a moment, and when he tried to speak again, the former angel was gone.

Defeated and unhappy, Dean closed his eyes, almost certain he wouldn't sleep.

But he did.

 

The solution to Castiel's problem was so _simple_. Breaking or controlling Dean's will would always end badly because the elder Winchester had cultivated resistance and resilience in Hell. No matter how irrelevant his struggles, he still _tried_.

But Dean Winchester's will co-existed with a number of other psychological elements, including the unconscious, which surfaced in his dreams. Cas didn't need to do much. He put Dean into a deep sleep and waited for REM to begin. Chemical paralysis of the body prevented Dean from literally acting out his dreams, but the neuroscience was nothing to Cas. He could amplify the hunter's dreams, then flood the brain with antagonist chemicals so Dean's physical body would engage in the activity. He might even modify the visual cortex temporarily, so Dean's eyes could be open without his brain trying to understand the visual stimulus. 

Dean slept soundly for about an hour and a half before slipping into REM-state, which gave Castiel the time he needed to destroy a few demons hiding out in the area. When he returned, his work went quickly. The hunter remained in the intense dreaming state, but his eyes were open and oddly vacant, despite their nearly constant movement.

"Dean," Castiel whispered. "Dean."

"Cas," Dean replied, sitting up in bed and pulling the former angel closer with the aid of his tie. "Castiel."

"Yes?"

"I want – I want _you_."

"How much do you want me?" Cas asked with a smile on his face. "Will you show me how much you want me?"

Dean made a moaning sound as he kissed and licked Cas, eventually kneeling in front of him and working off his pants. His lips closed around the head of Cas's erection, and the hunter performed one of the best blowjobs the new Authority could remember. Cas stroked his hair idly as Dean lived out his submissive fantasies, finally bringing the former angel to orgasm with a wet sucking pop. 

Dean stared up at Cas with his beautiful emerald eyes wide and hopeful. Cas brought him to his feet only to toss him on the bed. Dean scrambled to get himself up by the headboard, and the former angel joined him. Cas loved this particular dream of Dean's, which culminated in Cas folding him in half against a wall and screwing him sideways.

Simplicity was always the best solution. All Cas had to do was prolong REM state, heal Dean, and clean up afterwards, and the brain, which was designed to prevent the conscious mind from actively remembering the majority of dreams, would do the rest.

 

Dean woke the next day surprised that he slept for eight hours, especially since insomnia had plagued him for almost a week before. But he packed up and continued out to California after Bobby called him about a possible case to check out.

Oddly, the strange events amounted to be nothing more than a smuggling ring for exotic animals that lost some of its merchandise. It took Dean all of a day to figure out before he headed back to Singer's Lot.

Castiel avoided Dean at Bobby's. With Sam and Bobby both nearby at night, one of them was bound to notice the noises coming from Dean's temporary bedroom. At first it was a nuisance that almost drove Castiel to kidnapping, but then something delightful happened for the new Authority.

Dean didn't remember the nighttime romps with the former angel, but he did notice that he slept nearly eight hours when he was alone in a motel room. He felt more alert and healthier with the additional sleep, so Dean sought out private lodging on a nightly basis within a few weeks of Castiel's first nocturnal visitation.

 

A year passed. Crowley and all his minions were dead, leaving Hell a place of souls in despair with no demons to plague the Earth. 

Castiel had spent weeks hunting down and slaying the last of the monsters in the world. The cleverest Children of Eve, almost all of them dragons, had acclimated to life and seemed almost human. Almost. 

Heaven had only a hundred or so angels left to attend to the world, but the Pagan deities and spirits were the only resistance they had to consider. Simplicity made everything run faster.

Castiel had more than he ever wanted or ever dared to hope for when he was a mere angel. 

But he wasn't happy. 

Actually, he didn't know what happiness was anymore. The souls inside his body had transmogrified his inner form, shaping him into a mixture of angel, Leviathan, and monster. The small amount of humanity found in Eve's children originally balanced the hunger of the Leviathan, but after a year of being both an incubus and God, most of the humanity burned off, leaving him lustful and destructive. He had memories of emotion, vague husks of what they once were. 

Everything had been so _important_ six months ago. A year ago. Two years ago – 

Ultimate power with no resistance made him crave something novel. Castiel became curious about his former emotions, his former understanding of the world. He hadn't been curious in such a long time. He hadn't been much of anything in such a long time. 

The blackness in his body, the black goo that wasn't quite blood, boiled hard and fast as the idea unfolded to him. Leviathans were pure Hunger, but an angel with Leviathan blood was pure chaos. 

Castiel, the new Authority, would take the universe as his own, and his Hunger would be a mere memory, like his emotions. All he needed was one more time slip.


	7. As a Place

A time slip wasn't a wormhole. Parallel universes weren't involved, and divergent futures didn't create oddball offshoots. The theories in question were interesting in a philosophical sense, but they were all predicated on the notion that every single thing in the universe could be understood and described in terms of pattern, no matter how complex the variables in the given system happened to be.

In short, science was limited by scientists, who were only human, after all. Time and history had solid rules for humans; therefore, humans perceived what they called paradoxes when considering the nature of time. This was how and why people considered the possibilities of parallel universes or alternative timelines co-existing somehow. The fact remained, however, that the universe was simply analog at its core. Rewinding time, while not entirely literal, _erased_ events, plain and simple, so that the physical and temporal space would be relived. 

Essentially, the space/time continuum was best compared to an etch-a-sketch. A quick and thorough shaking wiped the slate clean.

The trouble was the _shaking_.

Death had put up with plenty of ridiculous things in the past few years. The apocalypse had come and gone. Lucifer was locked away, and Death was free of that archangel, finally. He had dealt with the insufferable Winchester, _twice_. He was certain those two humans would eventually get into something that would finally make him reap them.

But he was wrong. Turns out, the troublemaker wasn't Dean Winchester, but the angel in his company, Castiel. Well, what was left of Castiel. His body had burnt together souls, Leviathan, and angel Grace.

"You're quite a mess now, aren't you?" Death asked slyly.

"You have no right to interfere here," Castiel replied. 

"Right is a harsh word for you," Death said. "For someone who has not only reorganized the Earth, but reset events three times already."

"It is none of your concern."

Death scoffed. "Except that it is my concern, Castiel. Did you think that I stopped you here, in this place between stars and atoms in a molecule, to complain?"

"No."

"Did you think I came _alone_?" Death asked heavily. "I'm just here... in case."

"In case of what, exactly?"

God spoke, "In case someone needs to reap you."

What was left of Castiel saw his father for the very first time. Had he been an angel, or capable of emotion, he would have been happy and terrified at the same time. But power and time had brewed him into something else, something apart. 

"Destroying the natural order was never in your nature," God said patiently. "And now look at you. Your broken heart has broken you to pieces. And that pain has melted those pieces into a mangled facade of who you once were."

"Your words mean nothing to me," Castiel said. "When you were needed, you remained hidden. You told us to back off when we went looking for your help. You abandoned us."

"That's not why we are here," God replied. "Look at your _choices_ , Castiel. That is how we came to this spot."

"Why are you here now?" Castiel asked. 

"You wanted to reset time, again, for the sake of your own curiosity. You wanted to feel like you once did, to understand things."

"How did you – " Castiel began.

"Know that?" God completed. "You know the answer. That's the reason I am here. Reliving these events isn't going to bring back what you were, Castiel. The transformation is in one direction. You cannot go back."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. But there is something you can do. Something that will satiate your curiosity and give you what you want."

"Let me guess. Go back before I open Purgatory and prevent myself from doing it. Correct?"

"That would be ineffective. No, all you need to do is to look at your choices. Really look."

"That is meaningless."

"I could let you go right now, and you will never know. Your curiosity would never be satisfied. Or, I can open your eyes and show you what I mean. Either way, you choose what happens next."

Castiel considered this. Death would rather reap him now and save the world all manner of chaos, but he waited. He wondered if Dean Winchester, who was the common denominator in the world's most recent turmoil, was some kind divining stick for insanity in the supernatural world.

"Very well," Castiel replied. 

Death took his leave. For now.

 

Castiel's eyes were opened. Not what was left of the angel, not the power-drunken madness that he had become, but Castiel himself. Consciousness and experience were individual in nature, but to someone – or something – that encapsulates multiple souls and Grace and Leviathan, the words 'consciousness' and 'discrete' fail spectacularly. Between the timelines, Castiel had spent almost two years as the New God, the New Authority, and every passing second fused the conscious beings into the angel. The monsters melted into his Grace. The humanity burned away. The Leviathan, though, they stitched themselves inside. They gouged out chunks of his essence and replaced it with the blackness of Leviathan.

But now it was as if Cas was inside of a crucible, and inside the furnace his being glowed white and transcended away from the darkness, the elements separating into their purest form.

His decisions made him desire death more than anything in the world. But he would not die today. Not after all the things he did in this timeline and the ones before. He must have redemption, or at the very least confession. 

When he finally closed his eyes and rose up from the ash, he was alone with God, an enormous privilege that he did not deserve. 

"How do I – fix it?" Castiel asked lamely. 

God shook his head. "If I gave you all the answers, Castiel, you would be dissatisfied."

"I can go back, return the souls – "

"No," God corrected. "I was able to show you, but everything is fused inside you now."

"Then I'll eventually go back to being that... thing?" Castiel asked, his blue eyes wide with a fear he had never before known.

"There is another option," God said to his child, his son, an angel of his own creation. "Don't rewind time. Simply travel back and show yourself the truth."

"What truth?"

God laughed. It was warm and happy, and not at all suited for the situation. "You need to give yourself the wisdom to handle the power you took that day. You must show yourself what has happened."

"And if I do this... convince myself of what I must do. Does that mean that I won't exist? This – thing I've become will never have existed."

"Death will be displeased at the conundrum," God asserted. "But, for lack of a better word, yes. This being you are will never come to form, and your consciousness will be replaced with your new self."

"What if I don't have the wisdom to do the right thing? What if I just – what – "

"Have a little faith."

"In you?"

"No, in yourself."

 

The Hybrid-Castiel captured his alternative timeline self before his first trip to Heaven. 

"What trick is this?" Cas asked.

"It's not a trick," Hybrid-Castiel replied. "It's your future. This is what you will become."

"And why should I believe you? How can I know you are not simply disguised to trick me?" Cas questioned.

"I am going to show you everything that you were," Hybrid-Castiel said. "Since the moment of your birth. That is, the day you pulled Dean Winchester out of Hell. Then I will show you mutilating his body for your own gratification."

Castiel's eyes flared madly. "You're lying."

"You're drunk on your power, ready to make an example of someone. Gideon is the most likely candidate."

"Yes," Cas said.

"Now, watch," Hybrid-Castiel said. He touched the scalp of his past self and opened his eyes to the hideousness of his own future.

 

Castiel stuttered out the last words of his confession, absolutely certain that his abandonment would soon follow. He couldn't expect Dean to accept his crimes, and the man had remained in the same _bed_ while Cas recounted locking him in a dungeon as a sex toy. At some point, Dean moved his head so he was staring up at the ceiling. The painful silence hovered for several minutes before Dean turned his head to face Castiel.

"You seriously screwed _Meg_?" Dean asked.

Castiel's face contorted. "That's what you're asking about? After all the terrible things – "

"Hey, I'm a hot piece of ass with nice eyes," he said. "And a great lay. I get why you wanted me badly enough to try to mind-control me or whatever. But freakin' _Meg_ , Cas?"

"Dean, this isn't – I'm not joking about this. It's horrific torture. I inflicted torture and enslaved you – "

"Cas, I know you kissed Meg that one time," Dean said. "But once you thought screwing her was a good idea, that clearly wasn't you anymore."

Then Dean kissed Cas, as if nothing just happened.

"Stop looking so damn unhappy," Dean said.

"I'm not unhappy, I'm just – I'm... confused."

"Cas, you pulled me outta the pit," Dean said. "You must've seen some of the things I did there."

Castiel shuttered at the intimacy of knowing the blackest part of Dean's life. "Yes, I did," he replied.

"You saw me as a good man when you saved me. I didn't think so. I still don't think so sometimes, but you keep telling me otherwise," Dean said. "Maybe I didn't, you know, see what you did or pull you out of Purgatory Land, but I do know that you are a good man. Person. Angel, whatever."

"Dean, I – don't know what to say."

Dean kissed him again. "Good, because I want to go back to sleep."


	8. Garden

Crowley couldn't be entirely certain that Castiel screwed him over. The angel was a soldier, and apparently very good at battle strategies, but he never came off as _shrewd_ to Crowley. Before the apocalypse started, there was virtually no need for an angel to be clever, since the only thing that could harm them was another angel.

However, that didn't change the fact that the King of Hell had his hands full. Whatever souls Castiel syphoned off for him weren't just souls. They were nasty, clumsy, and powerful, and they transmuted into black sludge constantly. The King discovered quite quickly that the black sludge decimated black smoke without even flinching, and he spent weeks finding a place to stow the creepy crawlies so they couldn't wreak havoc.

So, Castiel gave him the means to destroy his enemies. Once he corralled the goo into some deep pit in Hell, he could toss any demon into that locked box and obliterate them. The trouble was getting the damn things locked up.

"What is it?" he barked at some random recruit that joined him in Hell's central castle.

"Hiya nut-bar," a female demon said.

"Decarabia!" Crowley barked.

"Gold star for figuring out my real name," Meg droned. 

"You've become suicidal, I see," the King said with a smile. "I mean, walking into the middle of Hell. Really, kitten?"

"Aww, you're funny," she replied. "But I think you're gonna wanna put that all behind us, Seacrest. Because you've got a bigger problem on your hands than little me. A problem that I've got a solution for."

"I see," Crowley said. "And let me guess, you want my post in trade?"

"Nah," Meg replied. "I want a truce. Call your dogs of me, the bounty hunters."

"In exchange for?"

"Containing the Leviathan," she replied.

"The what?" Crowley asked.

"The black sludge you've got down here, crawling all over your good order. They're Leviathan," she said casually. "Helps when you're old enough to remember them being locked away."

Crowley hated Decarabia, or Meg as she seemed to prefer, but she did have ancient knowledge. And she was one of the most powerful demons left alive...

"I suppose we could negotiate a contract," Crowley replied happily.

 

Sam and Bobby were skeptical over the whole super-angel thing, so Dean casually avoided the topic of time travel. Neither of them needed to know, just like neither of them needed to know what Dean did to souls down in the Pit. Or what was done to him. 

Eventually he'd tell them about the time warp thing. He'd explain that Cas learned from himself, or something like that. But he wouldn't go into the detail that the super-angel did for him. The confession was painful to listen to, not from its contents, but from the heaviness it heaped on Cas. Dean had been there, the weight of bad choices breaking his soul, but Sam and Bobby didn't have a reference point. They didn't know what it was like to have to forgive yourself for the unthinkable. Even Sam, with his many mistakes, made bad choices for the right reasons, or at least partially. 

So Dean helped Sam repair an old house not far from Bobby's. Sheriff Mills came around to assist them with the insulation and wiring, which she knew an awful lot about. 

"My dad used to work on houses," she said. "And my mom used to do the wiring. All that stuff seeped into my head by osmosis."

"Yeah, well, good thing you're here, or Dean would've electrocuted himself," Sam replied.

"You mean _you_ would've, Sam," Dean replied. 

They bickered happily over the refurbishing process. Castiel watched them as they laughed and worked. He wanted to join them, to create a home with the humans he loved, but it was ill advised at the moment.

Jody left after they finished the last of the main downstairs walls. The brothers ordered pizza for a snack, and they ate sprawled out on the floor of the house.

"Okay, so the upstairs," Sam began. "Originally this house had four bedrooms. The realtor said there was an attic, but it's more like a third floor, so that could be a room, too..."

"You bought a house with five bedrooms?" Dean asked. "You planning on adopting some kids?"

"Shut up," Sam replied. "And no. Only one of the bedrooms is big enough to fit more than a full-sized bed – "

"I call that one!" Dean said. 

"I was going to suggest we knock down the walls of the two smaller rooms, make them into a master bedroom. That'll leave us with a guestroom or at least a buffer."

"Either way, I get the bigger room," Dean said.

"Dean, I'm taller than you are. I was kinda hoping to get a California king so I'd get the extra inches on the mattress – "

"Wow!" Dean chimed in, "You've put way too much thought into this."

"I'm bigger, I get the bigger room."

"I'm the one attached at this point," Dean said casually. "That means I need the bigger room for us – "

Sam dropped his slice.

"What?" Sam asked quickly.

Dean mentioned meeting with Castiel and speaking with him, but he had circumvented the relationship aspect. He realized, though, that he'd just let the cat out of the bag.

"Well, uh," Dean began. "Like I said, I'm attached, I get the bigger bedroom."

"Attached?" Sam repeated. "It can't be Lisa, right? So who are you attached to right now, Dean?"

"Cas," Dean said as he bit into his pizza. He decided that acting like Sam should've figured this out on his own was the best course of action. "Obviously."

"Obviously," Sam said, clenching his teeth together. "When were you gonna tell me?"

"I thought you already knew."

"You thought I read it telepathically or something?"

"You go all Dr. Phil over every little thing, Sammy, but you miss this?"

Sam wanted to yell at Dean, but he was happy that Dean finally admitted to his feelings and hashed them out with Castiel. 

"You should've said something," Sam replied.

"You mean like sending out an announcement? Because we haven't gotten that far yet," Dean joked as he went for another slice.

 

'Haven't gotten that far _yet_.' That was what Dean had said. Castiel curled up with his hunter in some random motel room in Virginia, stroking his hair as he slept.

"Cas?" Dean said as he woke up. 

"Yes, Dean?"

"You're here."

"Yes. I came as soon as I could," Cas replied.

"More demons?" Dean asked.

"No, they're quite busy at the moment," Cas said. "It's Heaven."

"Balthazar again?" 

"No, the unrest there is due largely to a lack of an archangel. Nothing like it was before, of course, it's not civil war. Just dozens of sibling squabbles over things, and no one to mediate them."

"Aren't Balthy and Anna supposed to be handling that?" Dean asked.

"They're doing well, but neither of them want to spill any blood. It allows them to keep a neutrality to their names, so to speak."

"Surprised Balthazar hasn't started making animals in rainbow-color, or inspired bad directors to go into business as jugglers or something."

"That makes no sense."

"Sounds like something he would do. I mean, Gabriel pretended to be a trickster for a very long time, right? Balthazar reminds me a lot of him."

"I didn't think you liked Balthazar," Cas said quietly.

"I don't. Didn't like Gabriel much, either."

"You're very tired," Cas commented.

"Not too tired," Dean said quietly as he yanked Cas down into a long, slow kiss. "You understand?"

"Innuendo," Cas remarked. "I mean, I do understand."

They wrapped together in sleepy, warm sex before Dean finally fell asleep again.

 

Crowley had to hand it to the little minx. The idea was ingenious. Sure, he signed a contract that allowed Meg to live as an agent of Hell, despite his desire to torture her forever, but it was a worthy cost. 

Meg was able to crack the Cage open, similar to how Castiel fetched Sam's body and later how Death pulled out the rest of his soul. Sensing the power within, the black sludge poured in, entangling Michael and Lucifer and somehow spitting out a human soul, which vanished from Hell as soon as it was free.

"What was _that_?" Crowley demanded of Meg.

"A human soul was in there?" she asked.

"One of the vessels," Crowley replied.

"Ah, must've moved on."

"Moved on? Out of Hell?"

"Apparently," Meg said. "Aww, come on, Smokey. I did as promised, your Leviathan problem is now solving your Cage problem. Those archangels won't stand a chance."

"Funny," Crowley replied. "You were dedicated to the whole apocalypse thing, and now you're on my side?"

"There's no way to _open_ the cage to free them anymore," Meg replied. "My father would be stuck in there forever. It's better this way."

"Move along, minx," Crowley said. "I've got other things to attend to."

 

Castiel sent Dean off in the morning. November was cold and harsh, but the hunter was sporting little more than his leather jacket. 

"Sam and I are done with the house," Dean said. "You should drop by and see our room."

He kissed Cas and popped into the Impala.

Cas's hearted ached. He wanted to see their room and act out every fantasy Dean ever had. He wanted to worship Dean's body and spend the hours of the evening curled up with him. These last few months had been a kind of thorny paradise, a reprieve from the depravity he'd drunk in, and Cas desired nothing more than to embrace it forever.

But the eclipse wouldn't open until December, and the former angel was running out of time. The Leviathan had perverted him, but the souls hadn't done him any favors, either. And if his instincts and emotions were any indication, Castiel didn't have another month.

And he didn't have the power to start another eclipse.

The former angel came to Dean the night before, planning to explain to him what was about to happen. After all, Dean would be in danger without Cas around, so at the very least, the Winchesters deserved to know. But Dean said something that gave Castiel an inkling.

He didn't have as much power as he did before, but Cas had enough to summon another and yank him back into life. The vessel he had was oddly short, and when he appeared, his normally calm appearance was shaken and startled.

"Where am I?"

"Thomas, Virginia," Castiel replied.

"You're – Castiel?"

"Gabriel," he said.

"Lucifer shived my ass," Gabriel said. "I felt it. So, how am I here?"

"I brought you back," Cas said. "And I only ask for one thing. That you guard the Winchesters."

"Hell no!"

"They are human. They may live another fifty years, maybe. That's nothing to you, Gabriel."

"What's happened to you anyway?" the archangel replied. 

"I'm... I hoped I would be able to make it until the eclipse, but I am afraid that is not the case. I need to syphon off the souls to go to Heaven and then return the others to Purgatory."

"Purgatory?" Gabriel asked. "How do you plan on that one? Just flying in?"

"And opening my corporeal form to release the souls, yes," Cas replied placidly.

"That's – that's _suicide_ ," Gabriel said. "You'd be trapped there. They'd tear you apart."

"It's better than becoming..." Cas began. "It's better. Please watch over the Winchesters for me."

Gabriel wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but it was time he figured it out. "Fine, I will, but – "

Castiel vanished. 

"Hey!" Gabriel shouted up to Heaven.


	9. Use our Hopes

"You know, your pet project is going to die very soon," Death said to his oldest friend. "Noble and all, but a bit of a waste, don't you think? Pocket universes are so _tedious_ , after all."

God considered this. "Yes, it was a rather lot to do to give him the chance to choose."

"And you're willing to let him vanish into Purgatory, of all places?" Death asked. 

God smiled. "Free will is like that. You show someone their future, and they go about doing everything trying to prevent it, yet wind up ensuring it."

"Well, it wasn't really his future," Death said. "That he saw."

God had changed a few minor things earlier in the timeline before sending the Hybrid-Castiel back in time. He made sure Balthazar emphasized the danger of Castiel exploding to Dean Winchester, among other things. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair to make Castiel believe he became a monster who destroyed everything he loved, but it was highly effective. The angel did pretend to take God's place, so fairness was a flexible entity in this instance.

"Maybe not," God conceded. "But close enough."

 

Dean and Sam established a dining room, but they didn't have furniture for anything but the living room yet. So they wound up sitting on the floor with a coffee table for now whenever they ate dinner at home.

That's what they were doing on Wednesday night, chowing down on some local Texmex Takeout.

"Nice digs."

The Winchesters balked at Gabriel as he stood in their very empty house.

"You're – you've been _alive_ this whole time, you bastard?" Dean asked.

"Uh, no," Gabriel replied. "Your boyfriend brought me back a few nights ago."

"Why the hell would he do that?" Sam asked.

"Maybe because he's planning on doing a triple lindy into Purgatory," Gabriel replied. "And someone needs to wrangle the winged ass-monkeys while he's away."

"Away?" Dean repeated.

"I thought he didn't tell you," Gabriel smiled. "Personally I've always thought he had a stick up his ass, but he did make me less dead. Gotta hand it to him, handling Raph like that. Better than me, ten times better."

"Okay, what's going on?" Dean demanded, setting aside his food.

"Castiel thinks he's doing the right thing, which is fine and all, but... well, he's not too sharp."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Sam asked.

"It means, he's about to drop those souls off in Purgatory and get stuck there. It would be noble if it wasn't so fantastically _stupid_."

"Wait, what?" Dean stood up. "We gotta stop him."

"Yeah, but we can't," Gabriel said. "He does have to ditch the souls, but he thinks trapping himself there will be some kind of... penance I guess. But locking a seraph in Purgatory? Cosmically, it's like dropping acid into the Ocean..."

"So what?" Sam asked.

"So what?" Gabriel repeated. "So, the acid mixes with the water and can precipitate an enormous chain reaction that could destroy the planet."

"What kind of acid are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"Shut up, shut up!" Dean barked. "Listen, Gabe, we've got enough crap. So just make this simple for us. If we can't stop him, and he can't stay there, why are you here?"

Gabe smiled. "Right on, Deano. Listen up."

 

One third of the souls, or rather Leviathan, went to Crowley. Not quite so many souls were left in Heaven, so the remaining count was around one half of what he swallowed.

But the Leviathan accounted for much of his power, and with them gone, he was closer to an archangel than a pseudo-deity. Castiel had enough to maneuver into Purgatory and that was only because the souls within him had been there before.

The angel dropped to his knees as his body opened and souls poured out. His essence wretched and shook as the harshness of Purgatory reclaimed the monsters he stole. Then suddenly, it was over. Casitel was Castiel, an angel in a land of abominations, and everything wanted to kill him.

Castiel ran.

 

Sam watched as his brother went from angry, to belligerent, to silent in just a few hours. The days of November became pregnant, driving Dean of his mind in waiting, and all Sam could do was make sure his brother lived through it.

"Dean," Sam said. "You gotta keep it together."

"A month in Hell is like ten years," Dean said. "How can we know that Purgatory isn't the same?"

"We don't."

"This is – this... Sammy, this can't be happening."

By mid-November, Sam started slipping Dean sedatives with his dinner. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but it kept him alive though the Thanksgiving weekend.

Gabriel's plan wasn't so much a plan as an idea, and Bobby agreed to help the research so long as Gabe didn't play any tricks on them. Technically, he agreed, but that didn't stop him from transforming their couch into a sea dragon, claiming it was a present.

"Think of it this way," Gabe said. "Dig a moat 'round your house and drop this guy in. No one would bother you."

"Because we'd be _eaten_!" Sam retorted. "Give us our couch back!"

"Fine," Gabe sighed changing it back. 

This was his general pattern over the next month. Appear, transform something, cause chaos, then concede. Apply, rinse, repeat.

The night before the eclipse, Gabriel dropped in with a load of herbal crap that smelled like the rotting dead. 

"Sorry boys," he said, "but killing a virgin isn't on my list of things to do. So we had to resort to another ritual. And I need both of you, _and_ some of your blood, Deano."

"My blood?"

"Hey, you were the one who thought screwing an angel was a good idea," Gabe said. "Now your blood is the best thing we have to find Cassie."

"You screwed a freaking goddess of destruction!" Dean replied, referring to Gabe's relationship with Kali.

"Oooo, jealousy is an ugly color on you," Gabe remarked. "Let's go fetch us a seraph outta monster land, huh?"

 

The original ritual opened a door into Purgatory through which everything could be drawn in. As Gabriel mentioned, it also required the blood of a virgin, and that was out of the question. So they found another ritual, one that opened a tiny crack in Purgatory, to pull out a very specific something.

"Will this help?" Sam asked Gabriel as he held out a necklace.

"Thanks big boy, but I don't do love affairs," the archangel said.

"No!" Sam started. "Dean wore this thing forever. And he lent it to Cas so he could search for God. You said we needed something to help us hone-in on him. I thought this might help."

"Huh," Gabe said, examining it. "Maybe it can. Smear some of Deano's blood onto it, we might just have ourselves a homing device. Good job, kid!" Gabe said. "You're not nearly as dumb as you look."

"Screw you."

"Stop yer bickerin'," Bobby said as he dragged in another altar for their ritual. "And help us set up, we only got a few hours."

Sam walked away, leaving Gabriel with the necklace. When the archangel spotted Dean Winchester isolating himself, he decided it was time for a heart-to-heart.

"So, here's how it'll work," Gabe said, not bothering with a greeting. "You cut your hand and grip this, tight as you can. Old Man Plan opens the door with his chanting as your brother lights things on fire, and I yank Cas's ass back here."

"Great."

"Your only job is to call to Castiel," Gabe continued. "It'll be unpleasant – "

"It always is."

"You know, you look glum for a guy who's getting his boyfriend back."

"We don't even know if he's alive!" Dean yelled. "We don't even know if this will work!"

"That's life in a nutshell," Gabe commented mildly. "So you can pout here and be depressed and moody, or you can sack up and smile."

"You're an asshat."

"You're a bitch," Gabe retorted. "Seriously, Dean. Castiel went all the way to save you, to protect you, and you're risking our only chances of getting him back?"

"What're you talking about?"

"I mean the only reason this shit will work, ass clown," Gabe said, adding insults to maintain his reputation, "is because you are here. The object of his heart is the only thing that can drag him out of a place like Purgatory. If you're empty and depressed, he might not even notice the crack is there. So man the fuck up, because I have wasted way too much of my time on this project to let you ruin it now."

Dean didn't respond except to join Bobby and Sam in the final set up.

"T minus one hour three minutes," Gabe announced.

 

'Unpleasant' was a word to describe dry turkey or a toothache, _not_ an attempt to tunnel into Purgatory to jailbreak a seraph. 

They found Castiel easily enough, but a few monster minions tried to hitch a ride back to Earth, which required several silver bullets, a decapitation, and some lamb's blood to prevent. But by the end of the ritual, Castiel was on the floor, his trench coat dirty and stained and his vessel scratched and burned. 

"Cas?" Dean whispered. He wasn't breathing. "Cas?" he repeated.

"Well, my work here is done. I'm out!" Gabe said as he disappeared.

"Cas, com'on..." 

"Let's get him back home," Sam suggested.

The car ride back to Bobby's was predictably quiet. 

"Drop me and Cas at our house," Dean said to Sam.

"But, we need to look up possible remedies, and that's all at Bobby's."

"Just drop me and Cas at our house, okay?"

Bobby and Sam obliged, even going so far as to carry Cas up the stairs to Dean's bedroom before leaving.

"Cas, you bastard," Dean said. "You better wake up."

 

Bobby and Sam struck out that night, and Castiel remained comatose. There was no way to know if he was alive, but Dean refused to leave his side.

It happened around six in the morning the day after the eclipse. Castiel opened his eyes, and he immediately freaked out.

"Cas, woah!" Dean said, tugging the angel into his arms. "Chill out, it's just me."

"A djinn must've drugged me," Cas replied, his eyes full of terror. "I need to get out of here – "

"CAS!" Dean said as the angel teleported them to Toronto. "What the hell? I'm in my boxers, man. Take us home."

Castiel blinked stupidly, as if realizing this wasn't a dream. 

"Dean?" he said. 

"Yeah, Dean, who the hell else?"

Castiel kissed Dean like it was the first time, which would have been sweet and comforting, except that they were in Toronto in December and Dean was basically naked.

Then they were back in Dean's bedroom in South Dakota.

"How did I get here?" Cas asked. "Did I die?"

"No, Gabe figured out a way to drag your ass out of Purgatory during the eclipse."

"But, that's... you pulled me back?" Cas asked.

"You're damn right."

"You sound...angry."

"You disappeared to Purgatory, forever as far as you were concerned, and you didn't tell me about it?"

"Dean, I – "

"No," Dean said. "No apologizing or making excuses."

Castiel smiled playfully as his hands suddenly rubbed circles into Dean's hipbones. The hunter responded almost immediately, his reaction clear through his skimpy choice of pajamas.

"Cas, what're you – " Dean said, but his sigh of pleasure stopped his words. Cas moved in with his lips and peppered him with nips and kisses.

"You can punish me however you'd like Dean," Cas said. "Ask anything of me at all, and I will give it to you."

"Oh, you're going to wish you didn't say _that_ ," Dean said, his arousal making him plot deviously. "'Cause I'm gonna make you _beg_ , Cas."

Everything that was unsaid between them could wait. Dean would ensure the angel never forgot his lips or teeth. He'd mark up Castiel as his own and make him wrecked and begging before the night was out. Then they could hash out his ridiculous power trip and disappearance. 

But right now, it was about this moment, and nothing else.


End file.
